Sanctuary
by PanicButton
Summary: Reid/OMC and OMC. The three of them relocate to the town of Sanctuary, but one of them is keeping a secret. Language, slash, violence, confusion...
1. Chapter 1

SANCTUARY

(Follow up from Heart, Liver and Soul)

1

_Children show scars like medals. Lovers use them as secrets to reveal. A scar is what happens when the word is made flesh ~ Leonard Cohen_

* * *

><p>The Speckson house had been empty for over ten years. It stood with the overgrown lawns and had boarded over widows. A typical early cape cod.<p>

The Speckson family had been loners and chicken lovers. They sold eggs at the roadside at the weekends… children standing with glum expressions next to the mother who sat there looking as though she'd just stepped out of a modelling magazine and not out of the battered building behind her. The children always dressed immaculately and always stood in silence. They were, so it was said, home tutored. The locals guessed that must have been so as they didn't attend the local school and had to be educated somewhere.

Mr Speckson was a tall rough looking fellow who never gave a 'hello' or a wave to a soul.

The house though, that stood just off the main street going into town loomed and wailed and scared the hell out of the local kids. It was a short ten minutes walk to the first lot of shops which sprawled at first and then closed up and became blocky modern buildings. The town was ugly. The streets wide, the parking bays painted brightly, the shops with the big plate glass windows displayed wares, but the place lacked character. The main buildings were all built in the past thirty years or so. There was a school, a high school and bus and trains. There was nothing obviously _wrong_ with the place except that it tended towards the ugly side. It wasn't a place tourists rushed to. It had no big lakes, no amazing trees… nothing wonderful at all except for The Speckson house which kids crept by and adults didn't want to look at and drove quickly past.

You might occasionally see a group of kids standing at the big metal gates and gazing up the over grown driveway to the house and those windows which had hidden a thousand sins, but today there were other things to look at. Trucks had turned up. People had been looking around. Raised voices had been heard and boarding had been ripped down. Building work began.

The interior of the house was being gutted which seemed like a good idea. The only way to get rid of all of that blood. Not that anyone had ever seen the blood but they'd all been told by someone who had been there. That night when the Specksons had been found torn to a thousand pieces, there must have been two hundred people crammed into that house if everyone who had spoken to someone who had been there at the time was to be believed.

A murder so horrific that a decade later it was still talked of as though it had only just happened. Children were not allowed on the property and most children were locked away inside of their homes by the time it was dark. Teenagers roamed… teenagers are immortal in their minds. No monster was going to fuck with _them_… and they were probably right. The adults were wary. They carried mace, rape alarms, cell phones always charged up and ready to call… and they were overly suspicious of strangers.

Initially there had been a very large police presence – to calm the locals and stop them from saying that the cops did nothing. How could the cops do anything when the horrific murder had taken place without them even knowing about it? A family of six… wiped out… and still no one knew who had done it… still everyone looked at their neighbours as though they were the guilty ones. Still they left porch lights on at night and all windows and doors were kept locked. That lovely open and carefree life was gone… that left the day the delivery boy looked through the lounge window and couldn't see anything because of the blood covering the windows.

That didn't matter today… today bathtubs, sinks, old doors, rusty beds, curtains… carpets… cookers, toilets… everything which had once been inside of the house was now in a large pile at the front of it.

'There was no _For Sale_ sign.' A small but rotund man with white hair was complaining. 'How can someone buy something that wasn't for sale? That don't make sense. I thought that place belonged to the town. I thought it was going to be pulled down or something.'

It was the general thought from everyone. They assumed that the house would be there forever, slowly rotting, until there was nothing left of it and they could stop seeing it out of the corner of their eyes… they could stop imagining the screams that were never heard and maybe then they themselves could begin to relax.

Maybe.

o-o-o

Did they have any idea what it was like trying to please everyone? Floyd thought that they really had no idea.

Spencer said, 'I don't care, as long as I'm with you.'

Which Floyd knew what bullshit and Sam said it was too.

Sam wanted the city. He wanted bright lights, nightlife, people… stuff… music pounding… technology.

Floyd wanted peace and quiet. He would have been happy living in a ditch in the forest as long as his boys were with him.

A compromise wasn't going to be easy.

'You must have a thought on where you'd like to live.' Floyd threw down the pile of paper with pictures of houses for sale.

Spencer smiled slightly inanely and shook his head. 'I've come to realise that unless wherever we go is perfect in your mind then you'll never be happy and that's all I want. I just want _you_ to be happy.'

Sam objected. 'You disgust me! You're from Vegas… you must want to live in a city!'

'What point is there in living in the city if we are not all happy? I'd love to live in Vegas, but Floyd doesn't want to and so I'm not going to kick my feet and throw food until he gives in.'

Sam objected again. 'I've not thrown food in over a week!'

'Yesterday… lasagne…' Floyd pointed at a smear of a grease stain on the wall.

'That was boiled muck, not food, which was why I threw it. Oh my god… you two do my head in. You feed me pig swill…'

Spencer stood up and folded his arms across his chest. 'It took me all day to cook that!'

'And you wasted your time!' Sam snapped back and kicked out at the pictures of houses.

Floyd leaned back on the couch and watched his boys sniping and bitching at each other. It was constant. It never bloody well stopped. Actually the only time they stopped snarling and snapping was when they were asleep. It was giving Floyd another of his headaches.

'So I'm going to stay on the east coast.' Floyd told them. They both stopped grumbling and looked at Floyd. 'I've found a place in New England. I like it. It needs a lot of work done on it but I've already got people there stripping it out ready.'

Spencer picked at the skin where his fingers could reach. Sam made a small mewling sound and walked quickly to the bathroom. Floyd shrugged. 'You bought somewhere even though you promised that we would decide together?' Spencer asked him.

'Sure. But I've not said you have to live there have I? You don't have to. I'm just keeping options open and as you two can't agree on shit, I might just take a trip over up there and see how things are going. You two can stay here and keep out of trouble for a few weeks. Or of course you can join me in the town of Sanctuary.

o-o-o

Discussions were held.

This was a new thing they'd decided to try. They would discuss everything and make joint decisions. Floyd had initially thought that this was a good idea, but now it seemed that Sam was trying to block anything and everything he tried.

'Three votes are needed!' Was Sam's new battle cry. And this was getting tiresome. Floyd was going to go visit the new house whether the pair of them liked it or not. The only problem was that he had no intention of leaving them behind and Sam was stubbornly refusing to even consider moving there. 'I'm happy here.' That was his new thing.

'I like my apartment.' Was Spencer's constant whine.

'I don't want to live with people who wear rubber boots in the summer!' Sam howled when Floyd showed them the photographs of the house. Spencer though went very quiet, took the photos and looked at the floor plans. It was a lovely place. It was big and not completely cut off from civilization. There was though something horribly familiar about it and he knew that he'd either seen that house before or had seen pictures of it. The town of Sanctuary seemed familiar too. He blamed his lack of being able to pull information up on all the damage he'd had done to his head in the past. He just didn't seem to have the recall that he used to have… either that or he was mistaken. He carried on looking at the pictures until they were snatched away from him by Floyd.

'Why there? Why that place?' Spencer asked him. 'There's a lot of work you're having done. You could have got a new build for that price.' Not that Spencer wanted to live in a new build, but he was just curious about why this particular place.

Floyd took a deep breath. 'The place had been on the market for nearly a decade. No one wanted it. Allegedly – and I'm not sure about this, but it's haunted… no one wanted to live there. Ghosts don't bother me. I don't like new builds… I've tried as you know. I wanted somewhere with character. Somewhere we could get into the city easily. Somewhere Sam wouldn't feel cut off.'

'I hope they've got a local burger place. Spencer's going to get bored if he doesn't get a job.' Sam told Floyd.

Spencer prodded the papers in Floyd's hand. 'And why do I know that place?' He asked.

'Maybe your father took you there once.' Floyd snapped back at him. 'We leave tomorrow. Just to look. I'm not asking you to move in. Can we at least go and look?'

Sam told him that there was no point.

Spencer said that he'd go. Though he would rather stay where they were or go back to the small house with the lovely wrap around porch that they owned somewhere else… or maybe to the big white house on the top of the cliffs, or perhaps to the cottage by the sea. He _did_ want to go and look though. He wanted to know if anything else in the town was familiar. He needed to know why it was he knew that house.

Floyd had his own reasons for wanting that house. He had his own reasons for having it stripped out and put back together. He was keeping those reasons to himself for now.


	2. Chapter 2

2

If you wanted to ask Sam's opinion on this new voting system they'd employed, he'd had laughed in your face and maybe spat some obscene words at you. Sam was _not_ happy when his vote was suddenly not counted. He was apparently underage and was no longer given the right to make life changing decisions. He thought it would have been nice if Spencer had stuck up for him. After all this was their own little democracy and he wanted his thoughts heard and suddenly it had turned into a dictatorship with Floyd once again making final decisions in everything they did. This was _everything _from when they stopped off to have a piss in the bushes to what they were allowed to wear. Sam was angry. He was more than angry. Sam was positively mutinous and he wasn't interested in Spencer's reasons for putting all his eggs in Floyd's basket. Spencer's reasons didn't interest Sam even slightly. What Sam wanted was equality and that had been ripped out from under his feet when he got a cigarette burn on the coffee table and then again exploded into a frenzy of food lobbing when Spencer placed a bowl of something dried out and disgusting on the table for him to eat.

The coffee table burning had resulted in a wobbly tooth and a bloody nose. The might of Floyd's fury was unleashed and Sam spent the night in the bathtub (sans water) because Floyd refused to let him in the bedroom and told Sam that he didn't like dogs sleeping on the couch. Sam was also banned from smoking in the apartment which didn't help Sam's feeling that he was the most oppressed being on the planet.

Again he would have liked Spencer to have spoken up and stopped the beating he got, but Spencer sat there and ate his food in silence and said nothing. It was like the punches and kicks going on two foot away from Spencer weren't actually happening.

When were things going to be this glorious happiness that Spencer had suggested and Floyd sort of promised? (Though he never actually used that word and that was also something which concerned Sam as Floyd taped his hands behind his back and stuck duck tape over his mouth.) He'd looked at Spencer with pleading eyes… but Spencer again ignored this obvious abuse and let Floyd carry on doing whatever he wanted. It seemed that the voting system had been completely abandoned. Floyd was going to move them into a house out on the east coast and he was once again going to drag them along with him whether they liked it or not.

There was small chance of being able to ask if they could stop and let him have a piss. He was virtually crippled with pain by the time they finally pulled over at a small dirty rest stop somewhere in the middle of nowhere. Spencer had already jogged off to go and do his necessary when Floyd opened the rear doors on the big dark car and let Sam out.

'You fucking bastard!' Sam cried as the tape was torn from his face and urine soaked the front of his jeans. 'Why do you do this shit to me?'

There was no answer, but Floyd pointed in the direction of the grubby brick built building and smirked. For Sam it was too little much too late. The sudden movement and being hauled from the car had given Sam's bladder the opportunity it had been waiting for. Right there, standing at the side of the road, Sam hated Floyd with every breath in his body. His face stung, his body ached and his fingers tingled wildly as blood his circulation started to work properly again. Floyd didn't go in that nasty little building. He peed into the undergrowth and then lit up and waited for Spencer.

'Why do you treat him OK and not me?' Sam now asked as he pulled and plucked at his wet clothing.

Now Floyd looked at Sam and the smirk on his face drifted away and was replaced by something cold. It was something Sam didn't like the look of too much. 'Because I love him.' The words dripped with such insincerity that it made Sam flinch back. 'Why do you think?'

Sam didn't know. Maybe Spencer didn't fight back? Maybe Spencer never complained? 'Because he's a lost compliant fucker.' Sam said with an honest hiss. 'He'll do whatever you want because he wants you to love him.'

'Ah.' Floyd's smirk came back. 'There you have your answer. You want to be loved? Then you do what I tell you, when I tell you and you issue me no complaints. Can you see how much nicer life would be if I could trust you?'

'Can you see how much nicer I would be if you didn't tie me up and gag me just because I don't want to go to a fucking shit-splat town in the back of beyond. I thought that we were meant to decide together. You can't just remove my rights on a whim.'

Floyd flicked his glowing cheroot at Sam. 'Sure I can.' He told him. 'One can trust a dog, but when that dog starts snapping, one should tie it up and teach it not to bite.'

'I'm not a damned dog!' Sam howled…

'You are going through a very immature phase, Sam. Get back in the car. One more complaint and I tie you up again. You want a chance, then take it, don't abuse it.'

'So you can hit me and hurt me and if I complain about it you'll do it again because I complained?'

'See! You're learning already. Get in the fucking car.'

'That's not fair! You can't treat me like that. I have a right to say if I don't like something.'

'You have no rights. You have nothing. Prove your loyalty as Spencer did. Prove to me that you are mine and only mine. Show me that you want me and only me. Stop fighting me on every command. Behave like a loyal servant and you'll be treated as one. Get in – the fucking – CAR!'

Sam did as he was told. Not because he wanted to but because there wasn't anything to do and he didn't want Floyd or Spencer driving off and leaving him here alone. All he wanted was for the other two to treat him with some respect and though Spencer never hit him, it was just as bad not defending him… Sam was with them both, but he was also so very lonely that he might as well have been alone.

o-o-o

Spencer saw things slightly differently. Sam was a pain. Sam would agree with nothing. If they wanted to go get food, Sam would be the one wanting a burger when the other two wanted pizza… always the same. Sam always had to put his foot down and have his voice heard as though it would make any difference. Spencer was with it enough to know that this democracy was a farce and had only been put in place to shut Sam up in the first place. Spencer knew that there was no point in going against what Floyd wanted. There was no point in arguing with him over something like who slept in the middle. There was no point in saying that he wanted to read one book, if Floyd wanted to read another. There was also absolutely zero point in telling Floyd that he didn't want to move to this place called Sanctuary because Floyd's mind was already made up.

There was violence.

It wouldn't be them if there was none.

Sam seemed to instigate it most times and once and only once Spencer had tried to step in and stop it. Floyd had Sam around the neck and was battering him against the wall. And if the scene had been noted by someone else they would have said how Spencer had moved forwards and pulled Floyds away. They would have said how Floyd then turned on Spencer and lashed out at him as Sam slumped to the floor and crawled away. It would have looked like a heroic act, but Spencer didn't do it to be a hero. He didn't even do it to help Sam… he did it out of a jealous rage. He could see what Floyd was doing. He could see how Floyd was loving the kicking struggling thing… and the adrenaline swamped Spencer and forced him to act because Spencer wanted Floyd to be doing that to _him_ and not to Sam! But all he got as a result was a black eye and a sore hand. The other beatings Sam had taken were general smacks. Spencer was sure that Sam deserved them. He was sure that Floyd was just playing with him and Spencer planned on talking to Sam about it as soon as they were alone. Not that Sam would listen.

He'd not had the chance to see him alone so far.

Moving out to Sanctuary wasn't Spencer's idea of fun. He was still sure that he'd seen the place before, but perversely the closer they got to it the more he doubted him self and wondered if it was a false memory he'd had. The place names surrounding this small town weren't familiar. The lay of the roads didn't make him feel that he'd been there before. He was sure that as part of the BAU he'd never been here. He was very sure that this wasn't the location of an old case. Maybe just something he'd read about.

He'd relieved himself in the dirty restroom at the side of the road. Secretly he'd been hoping that Floyd would join him. Spencer loved slow comfortable love making, but he also liked seedy, grubby, painful sex. Both satisfied him and this disgusting restroom with over flowing bins and damp tiled floor and cracked basins would have suited Spencer fine. Floyd stayed by the car though and sneak peeks had shown that Floyd had untied Sam and was talking to him. Sam looked mad… and probably had a right to feel mad. He'd been tied up on the back seat of the car for five hours or more. Neither of them came to the restrooms though. Spencer watched Floyd go in the bushes and it seemed that Sam had wet himself again. Spencer wondered if the boy needed adult incontinence pants and would discuss this with him at some point.

'Play the game, Sam.' Spencer said to himself as he watched through the cracked window. 'Just play his game and he'll give you anything you ask for. Why can't you see that?' Spencer didn't know why Sam didn't just stop complaining and do what was needed to settle down and be happy. What was it that Sam needed so much that he couldn't get by being compliant, obedient and submissive? Sure, fight occasionally but don't make it all you ever do. 'Just do what he wants.' Spencer whispered to himself.

He moved quickly away from the window and joined Floyd again on the broken blacktop parking area. He gave him a loving smile, but didn't get one back again. This was going to be a long journey… longer in stress levels than in mileage. 'Is everything all right?' Spencer glanced sideways in Sam's direction. 'A problem?'

'A problem?' Floyd echoed. 'Only that we're still here and you didn't wash your hands… dirty mother fucker.'

Was there a point in explaining that the wash basins had more germs on them than where he'd had his hands? No… no point. Spencer pulled open the car door and grabbed the wet wipes off the dash and used those to clean his hands. He then passed the pack to Floyd… he could either use them himself or put them back. Spencer didn't care. He also grabbed the bottle of water they'd been sharing and firstly offered some to Sam, how gulped a few mouthfuls back and actually deigned to show slight gratitude. Spencer got behind the steering wheel again and once Floyd was ensconced back in the passenger seat and once he had checked that Sam was strapped in, they set off again in virtual silence.

o-o-o

In Floyd's mind, Spencer was being a fawning, obsequious toady. He wasn't sure what was driving Spencer to be so blindingly irritating, but he was being exactly that. As for Sam? If he didn't owe his current situation to the lad then he'd have broken his neck and fed him to the fishes days ago. But Floyd did actually think that he owed Sam something for getting back what had been missing… and then putting him in the position that he had to eat it. So… for now Sam was safe from hanging or drowning… or fatal crushing damage, or falling in front of trains, cars… off bridges into traffic, water, a handy fucking tar pit! The time would eventually arrive that Floyd could no longer deal with Sam… and then all he'd have was Spencer who seemed to have lost all will power and would happily shave his head and have a skull tattooed on his face if Floyd told him to… and it would be without question. He'd just go do it… and that angered Floyd too. One fighting against everything and the other so weak minded that he'd actually follow the orders of 'eat shit and die,' had Floyd asked him to and actually it bothered Floyd that he was too worried about the outcome to test that theory.

He wanted to go back to Sanctuary. It was a nice place. A small town which had once been even smaller, but thirty or was it fifty… years ago when the bulk of the town had been pretty in wood, there had been a drought. Nothing too bad but the old wooden buildings became kindling to the fire which raged through with such suddenness and fury that it had once been suggested that it wasn't natural at all but had been a malicious act of arson. Either way the end result was the same, the outlaying buildings still stood, the whole of the centre of the town was gone. Fortunately no one had died, but it meant that a local architect had been employed to design their new town. He was young and he liked a lot of glass and concrete and that's what the town got… from the remains of the old wooden buildings shot up the most vile and hideous town on the east coast. It was this oddity that had drawn Floyd here years later. He had read of the place which stood like a small bit of LA stuck in the middle of NE… and it was wrong, very wrong and looked like a movie set or a mistake… a carbuncle on the countryside…

There amongst this hideous monstrosity were a few very beautiful things. He picked them out and looked at them and they made his stomach twist with need. Oh how he had needed that summer he spent here. He'd needed so badly. But they grew like a yellow poppy in a junk yard, they were so frail and sweet and bright and perfect and they looked at him with such knowing… 'I know what you are, and if you pluck me I will scream.' That's what they seemed to be saying and that lured Floyd in all the more. Those beautiful boys… with yellow hair.

He waited outside the school every day for a week before being told by a member of staff that if he didn't have a child in the school then he needed to go away or they would call the cops, but it didn't matter because by then Floyd realised that those precious sweet things didn't come to this school anyway.

He staked out the house.

There was a ridge at the back with a row of trees. Below the ridge and going down to the house was a field of horses. To the right of the house were the chickens, but it was all good. He could watch from the ridge. He lay down amongst the tall summer grasses and watched carefully as the boys came out of the house with their mother who was tall and slender and always immaculate. She had a secret though. A deep, deep secret which Floyd wanted to find out more about. The father of the children was typical of his area… slightly over weight… a bullish man with no time for strangers even back then when there didn't seem to be a reason to want to keep to yourself. He had secrets too. As it happened so did the boys. Floyd could feel that secrecy rolling over those fields as the mother watched her boys calling for the horses and then rubbing at the sweet grass scented noses of the beasts before going back to the front of the house. A row of boys in height order, like a row of ducks walking after their mother to the water.

Only that wasn't their mother. Sure it was their father, but that tall beautiful thing wasn't their mother. He knew. He could smell it. He could smell the lies and fakery. And he intended to break that happy family. He intended to snap them and trample them under his feet.

o-o-o

They drove through the town with Spencer at the wheel slowly looking around at the odd place. It really was out of place. It was like something had transported this place from the other side of the country. The street Spencer was driving down was mainly retail businesses. A few apartment blocks had managed to squash their way in between them, but mostly it was stores, bars, eateries, fast food… Floyd had told them that this place had suddenly swollen in numbers of residents. It had gone from a burnt out sleepy backwoods shit hole to a vibrant and busy place. There was a large factory and warehouse complex which kept most locals here and even had some commuting in every day. It was a little bit of city in the forest… and Floyd pointed out that though he had nothing really against places like this, they all had their place and whoever decided that this was the place for this ought to be hung drawn and quartered. The land to the west was slowly becoming poisoned by the fumes of traffic and the multiple landfills. But… and he made his case for coming here now… there is a good library and schools. 'There's night life and it's a very confined area which just peters out and becomes what you'd expect.'

Sam sat looking at where he was going to have to come for any excitement if they really had to move here. He noted a big sign saying that there was a hospital, which was good and there was a flickering sign saying _FunParlour_ which intrigued him. This was a smart, clean place if not a little bit dull.

For Spencer it was just another town in another place and he had doubts that he'd have to get used to it. He didn't care much for the look of the place and he didn't think he'd be back here any time soon. As with everything Floyd tried to push them into, they never stayed long. It therefore didn't concern Spencer overly that the place felt odd and wrong. He turned and looked at Sam sitting there in the backseat and wondered why he'd not asked to get out… then the smell of sour urine hit him and he thought that was probably the reason and maybe even the reason that Floyd had virtually planned that Sam would be a mess before they arrived. Floyd didn't _want_ Sam asking to get out and wonder around.

'Pull over at that motel.' Floyd pointed the place out and Spencer pulled over into a parking lot with bays marked in different colours. It was overly bright and too jolly… again it didn't fit with the rural surroundings.

'I don't know why you don't just by a motel and be done with it.' Sam sighed. 'We spend more time in them than at home and I'm bored of the tired décor and the excuses and lies we keep having to tell. I want to settle down somewhere. Where's this house? Can't we go straight there and stop fucking around?'

Now Floyd turned to look at Sam. To Sam, Floyd looked stressed and tired. 'Firstly I thought you'd want something to eat, a shower, a change of clothes. First impressions and all? Secondly Spencer needs a rest from driving. Thirdly I _do_ own a motel in Vegas. I think that's all my points for now.'

They had sandwiches and coffee and some chocolate cake. Sam declared that though the sandwich was slightly curled at the edges, it wasn't poisoned and Spencer handed cremated it or defiled it in any form and it was actually the best food he'd eaten in what seemed like years. He then went and showered and got a change of clothes. Spencer laid back on the bed and rested his aching back and Floyd sat on the other bed and pulled out a hair tie from his pocket. Floyd's hair was just long enough to tie back now and that's what he did. Spencer gave him a curious look but asked no questions yet. It was when Floyd stripped off his clothes and put on one of Spencer's Tshirts and a pair of baggy blue jeans that Spencer asked what the hell was going on. It was almost as though Floyd was putting on a disguise. He never wore Tshirts unless he was forced to and the jeans looked as though they'd seen many a better day. The rubber boots he pulled out of his bag and slipped over his feet instead of his usual boots was the next thing to raise and eyebrow from Spencer. 'So, what's going on?' he asked Floyd who pulled one of Sam's baseball caps over his head with the peek down low at the front. 'Hiding from someone? Because if that's the case then I want to know who and why.'

Floyd pulled the cap off and dropped it to the bed and sat down again, this time next to Spencer. 'Thing is that it's a building site and I don't want clay or mud on my clothes and I don't want to go in there looking like a townie. That's all well and good for you, but it's not me. There's something else I want to discuss with you as Sam is out of earshot.' He flopped back on the bed and elbowed Spencer in the ribs to give him more room. The pair of them lay with hands touching and eyes looking at the ceiling. 'You remember when Iolanda did his deed with the dogs… someone took one of my toes.'

'I know. I thought you would have sorted that out by now.' Spencer turned to look at Floyd's face in profile and his stomach hitched with happiness. His Floyd. His beautiful perfect man… next to him on the bed… and for now at least, no pain, just comfort and the feeling of total security. The scar on his arm tingled as the blood rushed through him hot and ready for anything.

'I didn't know who had it. I'm still not sure, but it is something I need to sort out. Not yet. I really want this place to work out for us. I've had a look at the school and Sam might even get some form of actual education. There's absolutely no reason that you need to go work. You will be my kept man. My little whore. You can pay me back with long glorious sessions in bed. What do you think? For once do you think we can actually do this and be happy?'

Spencer would love to think that. He really would, but he didn't think it was going to work any more than all the other attempts to do something like this had worked and now this odd look Floyd had… it wasn't because he didn't want to get his clothes dirty. Since when had something like that bothered Floyd. He was the biggest slob when it came to personal hygiene so mud getting on his clothes wasn't the reason. And if it was, it wouldn't explain the hair and cap. Was there a point in asking him further and quizzing him on this? No… no point and anyway Sam was back and dressed and kneeling on the end of the bed trying to nudge his way into the perfection Spencer had been feeling. That was gone now that Sam was here… the slight temptation to tell Sam to go away didn't stay long. It was easier to get off the bed and let Sam think he'd won, but it wasn't Sam who had had that perfect few moments with Floyd. And Spencer didn't bother answering Floyd's question about if they could be happy, because Floyd would hear Spencer's lie and Spencer knew that this was going to be as big a disaster as anyone could imagine.

An hour later they stood together looking at the house Floyd had bought. He waved someone over and collected up three hard hats… one for each of them. There was no mud. The area was actually very dry and dusty. Floyd now had his hard hat pulled down low and was walking with his head down over towards the house.

'What the _fuck_ is wrong with him now?' Sam pulled on Spencer's sleeve. 'Do you get the feeling that he doesn't want people to recognise him?' Sam could clearly see that even the way Floyd was walking, which was distinctive enough if you knew him, had changed slightly.

'I don't know.' Spencer admitted. 'Just go along and play the game for goodness sake. Don't upset him. Things have been going so well recently.'

'Yeah?' Sam stepped back from Spencer. 'For you maybe.' He walked off towards the side of the house which faced them with the door in the middle and a window either side. Three stone steps led to the front door which Floyd was standing next to talking to a man in a hard yellow hat. Floyd turned and looked at Sam disappearing around the corner and then he looked at Spencer and gestured for him to come on over.

'They've started restoration on the interior.' Floyd smiled but didn't look relaxed. Floyd looked more as though he'd just seen or done something which he didn't want Spencer to know about. 'Come… I'll show you around. It really is beautiful.'

Spencer shuddered. There was something about this place. Something he didn't like. 'You said it was haunted?'

'Aya… but don't you worry about that. Why be scared of a ghost when you have an angel and a demon to keep you safe?' Floyd whispered into Spencer's ear. 'This is the hallway and obviously the stairs going up. Now I'm letting you know now that we'll not often need to use them because the master bedroom is on the ground floor to your right. Sam can have upstairs.'

'Oh…' Spencer peered up into the darkness and then turned to look at Floyd. 'And Sam will appreciate being put in a room away from us?'

'More to the point, will _you_ appreciate it? Think on it. I thought it would be nice to give Sam somewhere he could bring friends home to. A den and shit… you know?'

'You are making some mighty assumptions. Sam make friends?' But Spencer walked into the lounge with the huge open fireplace and the new wooden flooring. The walls had all be re-plastered and the ceilings were all new. The place had been completely stripped back to the bare bones. Through the large lounge was the dining room and then a huge kitchen with a flight of stairs going up off the end of it.

'Those stairs go to a room above the garage. It used to be part of the old barn. It's going to be a place for the adults to rest and relax when the kids are playing.'

Spencer frowned but walked on through and stood at the bottom of the stairs. 'What kids?' Spencer asked. 'Sam and his friends?'

'Who else. So what do you think? Do you like the place? I'm getting the rear field fenced in again and we can have horses out there. I'll get Sam a small motorbike or a car if he'd prefer so he can get into town easier. I don't want him to feel cut off. I want him to explore and learn and have fun. I want him to feel part of a family and not just someone added on. You understand? I wish I could provide him with normality, but this is as close as it's going to get.'

A noise behind them… a cough. They both turned to look at Sam. He had red botches of fury high on his cheeks. 'I'm not living here.' He snapped at Floyd. 'You _deceitful_ bastard. I'm not living in this place. You can strip it out all you fucking well want, but this wasn't going cheep because of a fucking ghost. How could you lie like that? I would have been the damned laughing stock of the town if I'd told someone you'd said that. I'm not… and I repeat… _not_ going to live here and you can't fucking well make me.' He went to turn, but Floyd had his arm and was dragging him out of where the kitchen was being installed through the lounge and out the front of the house again. Spencer stood looking confused as the workmen carried lengths of wood past him and up the stairs to the adults' den. He counted to ten… heard no screams and so followed Floyd and Sam out into the fresh air again.

Sam was sitting on the top of the steps and Floyd was standing there having a smoke. 'I'm sorry.' Sam muttered.

'Well tell Spencer, because you are so close to wrecking everything for us that I'm about to nail you to the fucking chimney and leave you here.'

'I listened to rumours and lies and should learn when to listen and when to walk away.' Sam muttered. He then got up and walked away, keeping his back to Spencer who was now looking at Floyd who was wiping the back of his hand on the side of his leg.

'Sorted.' Floyd smiled. 'He's going to love it.'

'You hit him?' Spencer took Floyd's hand and looked at how the skin was red and his knuckles looked as though he'd punched a door.

'I hit him because he will not learn if I don't. He's not like us. He's not like you. I can't talk reason to him because he doesn't understand how to listen. He can't compromise. He wants everything his own way and he'll lie and cheat and slither his way through life if I don't beat that damned attitude out of him soon.'

Floyd turned and looked at Sam who had crouched down and was plucking stones out of the ground and tossing them at a tree. 'Damn.' Spencer groaned. 'How does he do that? How does he go from being the most annoying thing alive to being something which looks so dejected and lost?'

'He learnt that skill from you.' Floyd patted Spencer on the shoulder. 'I'll go instruct him on morals and ethics. You go and look around the outside and decide on what colour you want the place. It was once pale green.' Floyd stopped talking and walked quickly away.

If the place had once been pale green there was no sign of it now; at least not from the front. It had obviously stood here for a long time being beaten by the weather and not being cared for. In a way Spencer could see why Floyd liked it. At least he thought he could see it. It was neglected and worn down, but once would have been beautiful, and as much as Floyd hated ring marks on furniture he hated to see any piece of art being ruined. It was obviously a very old place. Many of the timbers on the exterior had been replaced and it was on the south side of the long split level building that Spencer could see where paint had once been. The slight wonder of how Floyd knew what colour the place had been, disappeared. He didn't go as far as to wonder when Floyd had been down here and when he'd seen that place where old wood had been removed and the paint along that edge had been revealed. He didn't wonder what information had made Sam so angry. Spencer didn't want to know. He didn't want puzzles which upset the status quo, he wanted a smooth ride with no bumps and if that meant he must not talk to anyone or listen to anyone then that's what he'd do.

For a while he stood at the rear of the house looking over an large overgrown field. It was on a very slight slope towards the back end and they a small hill rose up in a woody ridge at the back. It was actually quite stunningly beautiful. Though they were so close to the town which was very ugly and characterless, this place could have been hundreds of miles from anywhere. It was somewhere Spencer thought he could settle down in if Floyd was being honest. If Sam could mix and have fun. If there were places they could go to occasionally. If… a lot of ifs but maybe… just maybe if they pulled together this could work. Spencer wasn't so sure about having horses. Surely that would mean they'd have to look after them and not be able to just close up and go away when they wanted to, but the thought of horses running in the fields was almost romantic.

o-o-o

Sam refused to go back in the house and see what Floyd had arranged for him. Upstairs was a big bedroom, a small spare room, a large bathroom and a small lounge. It would be perfect for Sam to have as his own space.

The problem was that Sam not only didn't want to go in the house, but he didn't want to be pushed aside by Floyd and Spencer. Mainly Floyd's doing he knew that but he was still cross and pissed off and feeling like the lesser one of the trio and poking him in the attic wasn't going to help the situation.

He thought he had a very good idea why Floyd had bought the house and why he was trying to look different from the norm. Floyd had been here before. Floyd was known here… if not by name then by his actions and it wasn't that Sam disliked what he thought Floyd had done, but he definitely disliked Floyd lying to them.

The house wasn't haunted.

It was a murder scene. A very nasty one. The sort a town doesn't forget quickly. The sort Floyd would have carried out. But he'd been gagged by threats from Floyd. If Spencer was going to find out it wouldn't be through him. Maybe that was good though. It was a secret Sam and Floyd had between them. It was something he had and Spencer didn't. That was good wasn't it?

That night they curled up on one of the beds in the motel room, the three of them with arms and legs coiled and encircling each other, keeping themselves not just warm, but safe and Sam was in the middle where he liked to be and it wasn't until nearly five in the morning that Spencer fell out of bed with a yelp and woke them up. But damn… how good is it to wake up in a good mood. Spencer laughed… Floyd sighed happily and gripped hold of Sam tighter and Spencer crawled back onto the bed and went back to sleep.

It was at times like this that Floyd's world was perfection. His boys were happy. He was happy… the birds were singing. Had someone slit his throat there and then he'd have died happily. At least that's what he told himself. Luckily it wasn't put to the test.


	3. Chapter 3

3

A few things happened over the course of the next three or four days. One of them was that Sam's demands for nice things seemed to explode a hundred fold. He woke up the morning after they'd arrived full of energy, but Spencer thought it was full of something else too. Something smug and Spencer thought that had to do with what happened at the house. Spencer considered briefly, asking Sam what was going on, but with a yelp of joy Floyd pushed cash into Sam's hands and told him to go out and enjoy himself.

'Go get that Hello Kitty Tshirt you've been wanting for so long.' Floyd stroked fingers over the side of Sam's face, kissed him on the nose and told him not to do anything stupid. 'We need to live here. Don't mess it up before we've even moved in.'

Sam was putting on his eyeliner and messing with his hair fast as a flash… then he was calling a cab and leaving. Spencer thought it a strange thing for Floyd to do. Sam alone out there? No… that was odd. Even more odd than Hello Kitty, whatever that was. It wasn't something Spencer had come across before, but somehow Floyd had…

Was Floyd buying Sam's silence on something? Spencer would ask outright but didn't want to be the one who made things go wrong. He didn't want Floyd to start accusing him of spoiling things. Spencer had no intention of spoiling this. They were going to spend some time at stores in the town too. Only they were going to be doing shopping for soft furnishings and other luxury items. 'I want this to be your home as much as mine.' Floyd told him. 'I need your stamp on the place.' That didn't include Spencer's beloved chair though. Floyd told him that he'd not have that stinking thing in the house. He could however get himself a new leather chair if that's what he wanted. They walked hand in hand in the soft sunlight with Floyd still wearing strange clothes, at least strange for Floyd; hat on, hair tied back, denim jacket on and done up… Spencer actually didn't mind that the man on his arm wasn't looking his usual wonderful self… because if Spencer's eyes even when Floyd was enraged and covered in blood he still looked awesome.

Their day went without a hitch. The only other strange thing was that Floyd refused to eat at a place in town. He wanted to get back to the motel and order something in. That didn't matter to Spencer but yes, it was strange. Sam arrived back not long after them. His eyeliner smudged and a bruise on the side of his face.

'Nothing.'

That was the answer they got when Sam was asked what happened. Spencer then discovered what Hello Kitty was and watched Sam squeeze into the tight pink clothing he'd purchased and yes it was camp, and yes it was much too tight… but Sam still managed to look sort of cute.

They spent the evening together. Sam did a fashion show for them and then they sat on the floor and ate the food they'd had delivered. Sam spoke of the great stores in town and Floyd told him what they'd ordered in the line of furniture, lamps, rugs… things for the kitchen and everything else in between. The only things they'd not bought were things which would go upstairs in Sam's part of the house… and when told a flash of a grin spread over Sam's face then disappeared just as fast.

'Well I was under the impression that we were sharing as equals, so why are you forcing me to be alone?' The sulks and whining were back, but Spencer seemed to ease Sam out of them again by telling him how great he looked in his pink rubber boots. They would continue the discussion of Sam's part of the house at another time. That night they curled up together again, once more Sam was in the middle and though Spencer had no real objection about this arrangement, he was beginning to want some privacy. He woke up in the early hours of the morning very aware of what Floyd was doing to Sam whilst he lay there untouched and feeling silly that he felt so discarded.

The next day after showering and after Floyd seemed to be pacing nervously for a while they went out as a trio. Again Sam in the middle of them like they were protecting some treasure which was now beginning to feel tarnished and tiresome to Spencer. He wanted time with Floyd. He was desperate to feel loving arms around him, but Floyd seemed more interested in keeping to dark corners and paying Sam attention which by rights should be Spencer's. When Sam wandered off to get an ice cream, Spencer had a quick word with Floyd in private.

'What the hell is going on?' He snapped at Floyd who was leaning against a wall just out of sight of the main street.

'Going on?' Floyd smirked and pulled Spencer closer by his belt. 'Want to blow me, Babes?'

Spencer slapped Floyd's hands away. 'No, actually I don't. I want to know what Sam is up to and I want to know why you are wearing clothes you'd normally not put on a scarecrow. What is going on? What's going on with that house? Why here?'

Floyd made another grab for Spencer and very nearly missed but Spencer wasn't quite fast enough. 'Don't push me away.' Floyd hissed.

'You amaze me. You actually astound me that you think you can lie to me like you have been. I might not be able to smell the lies like you can but I sure can see them. Tell me what's going on. I know what you did to Sam last night when you thought I was asleep.'

'I knew you were awake. Thought you'd join in. You don't have to be asked.' Floyd was now sliding his fingers down behind Spencer's waist band. 'I just want us to get along and have fun.'

'And I'm sure Sam is having fun now you've stopped slapping him and tying him up. So without lying and without distracting me with your fingers, tell me… tell me why this place and tell me what happened in that house and when you've been honest with you, tell me why you're dressed like a tramp.'

Floyd pulled his hands back again and sighed. 'You wouldn't understand.'

'I can't possibly if you don't tell me what it is.'

'Well Sam's back now, so it's going to have to wait. Come on… have fun. Take that grumpy look off your face.'

There wasn't another chance to talk to Floyd alone. He even accompanied Sam into the bathroom when he had a shower… dragging Spencer behind him. Spencer sat on the closed toilet lid and Floyd on the edge of the bath and they watched Sam shower. At first Spencer thought it was going to be more than just watching, but no… that's all Floyd wanted to do and so Spencer feeling irritated declared that watching Sam have a shower was voyeurism and he wasn't into that sort of thing…

The calls from Sam of 'It would have been OK if we were fucking, but you don't want to watch!' Came flying out behind him, but Spencer refused to bite. He wasn't going to be pulled into a bitching cat fight with Sam.

Day four and Floyd announced that the house was going to be ready in under a week! He was excited… hyped. He told them both that as they have no friends worth shit and as it's a long drive back again they might as well just stay here and move in as soon as they could.

Sam had no real objections and Spencer didn't _really_ have a problem except that he didn't want to move in there until he knew the real reason Floyd had bought the place… and why was it so damned familiar.

'I would like to visit the library.' Spencer announced. He knew that Sam wouldn't want to go there and he had a feeling that Floyd wouldn't want to either. He seemed to be keeping away from very public places and Spencer was getting an inkling of why… now he wanted his proof. Floyd said he'd take Sam to the house again and show him the upstairs part where he could take his school friends back to… or even a fuck if that's what he wanted to do. Floyd was happy… so he said… to pimp Sam out and make some extra cash on the side. He also wanted to get Sam a small motor bike.

'Enjoy your trip to the library.' Spencer was told. If Floyd guessed the real reason for the visit, he didn't show it. Spencer liked wandering around libraries. This wasn't at all out of place.

o-o-o

Two long hours later a very angry Spencer stood outside the library with a wad of photocopied reports from newspapers in his hand. Floyd had lied. He'd not only lied to him about the house but he'd lied for a reason. Spencer just didn't want to believe that the reason was what was going on in his head, spinning, making him feel sick.

This is what comes when you hang out with someone who seems to kill for fun. You end up finding out that they have been doing this for a long old time… why Floyd didn't want to tell him about this though, Spencer didn't know. His next trip was to the police station. He needed to know if the case was still open. Had anyone been caught… was there any evidence. The kind detective who was called when Spencer turned up, took Spencer down to a cold interview room and sat the angry Reid down in a chair.

'What's your interest in the Speckson place?' He needed to know.

Spencer placed the photocopies on the table that sat between them. 'I'm about to move in there. I found out that there had been a murder there and wanted to know more about it. If the unsub… if the murderer had been caught. I would feel a bit more comfortable if I knew more of the facts.'

It seemed reasonable to the detective and he seemed to relax slightly. 'Eleven years ago, almost… Boy, I can't even begin to explain the mess. I heard the place had been bought. I've seen that it's been completely refurbished. That's you?'

Spencer shook his head. 'No. My partner purchased the property but I don't think he knows the full background on what happened there. I'd like to know.'

'Your partner? Business partner?'

'Civil partner.' Spencer snapped at him. What business was it of his?

'Your _partner_ would have been told the details. No home that's been so… contaminated… would be sold without the buyer knowing.'

Spencer raised an eyebrow at the detective. 'But I'm not the buyer. I'm the buyer's partner and he's not told me. I am a very superstitious person and I don't want to go in there and sleep if I don't know what has happened there. And I'm sure that my partner is trying to shield me, but what point is there in shielding against something which I am sure is going to… I don't know… I don't know what to expect, but I would like to know that the person who committed the crimes is behind bars and I'd like to know exactly – or maybe even generally – what happened in that house.'

The detective cracked his knuckles and nodded. 'Well sonny… It was a husband, wife and four kids aged between seven and fifteen. They'd been skinned. Internal organs removed. They were partially eaten.'

Spencer started to stand up, but the cop waved him to sit down again. 'I've heard enough.' Spencer muttered.

'You don't want to know if the guy was caught?' Was that a smug look on his face? Spencer thought so.

'Of course.' He sat back down again and placed his hands calmly in his lap.

'The answer is yes. We caught someone, but he pleaded innocence and really…' The cop leaned over the table at Spencer. '… I think he was telling the truth. I don't doubt him at all. There was a transient in town… I'd point my finger at him… But the guy they caught and they accused of it, well he was locked up for life… but died. The chap hung himself. Poor sod. I'm not one to feel sorry for murdering maniacs but Bobby wasn't a murdering maniac. So my advice to you would to be cautious of rumour. They'll never catch who really did it because they're not looking for him. But he'll do the same one day. So tell me… who is actually going to be living there. You and your man and…?'

'And a teenaged lad who is a friend of mine and my _man's_ ward.'

'Nice. _Cosy_. I'll come visit once you're settled. The lad will be going to school here?'

Spencer tried to smile. 'I'm not sure. He has some problems and doesn't make friends easily. It might be better to home school him.'

'Ah hu.' The detective stood. 'Was there anything else?'

A shake of the head and Spencer was on his feet. 'Thank you for the information. I'm not sure if I feel better for knowing or not.'

'Well maybe your man was trying to protect you from it. Sweet. Sweeeet.'


	4. Chapter 4

4

It was one of those occasions where suddenly Spencer's memory fired all the right information into his brain and there it was soggy and fat and rotting like a barrel of apples which had been left in the barn all summer and winter… it was about to explode.

He didn't want to go back to the motel whilst in this thunderous mood. It might get him killed. Instead Spencer walked out to the house and stood there looking at it and feeling sick. He was very sure of what he was remembering now. Bobby Kirk had been accused, though he had sworn innocence… he'd looked guilty and had acted guilty. He had been stalking the family… Spencer remembered the story now has it had been written in one of the many books Rossi had written. Slowly as the story appeared in his mind he walked back to where he thought he was going to kill or be killed trying.

o-o-o

Bobby Kirk: A young man of twenty-two. He was tall with brown wavy hair and green eyes. He'd been born and raised in the Boston area and had moved with his family to Sanctuary three years previous. Bobby wanted to be a journalist, but his academic prowess had been weak and he'd not achieved the results at college that he'd needed for uni. Bobby Kirk attempted to get a job at the local newspaper and they'd turned him down numerous times. They didn't like his pushy attitude. Though one is needed, it was just a bit too much. He was too sure of himself, and yet his poor intelligence was obvious. They had no place for Bobby in the world of journalism. Bobby therefore started up a small news sheet of his own. He called it _Sanctuary Alive_ and his aim was to take photographs of the town and surrounding area and print them with interesting stories to go along with them. He planned on printing some off on his home printer and then taping them to lamp posts and trees in the town centre. He wanted people to see that he could do that job.

There was just one problem, though Bobby Kirk had a camera, he had no news to report.

What happened next is largely open to conjecture and therefore wont be told here. This is for truths only. The Speckson family reported to the police that someone had killed a large amount of their chickens. Someone was sent out, but there was no way to tell who had done it. The case was closed. A week or so later, actually it was ten days, they contacted the police again… This time reports of a prowler on the grounds, someone scaring the horses… again someone was sent and again whoever had annoyed their horses had gone. What did they want the cops to do? Six days after that happened Mrs Speckson called the police again. It was mid morning and she claimed that someone was in the house with her. The cops arrived and found a broken window in the enclosed porch, but the glass had been broken outwards, it wasn't someone trying to get in, rather something trying to get out. They told the tall woman with striking features and a surly manner that it was probably a wild animal which had been shut in the house. She complained at their lack of civility. She complained in her quiet but deep voice that she wanted this investigated properly. It never was.

The following day one of the boys came home with a bag of candy which he told his mother a man at the bus stop had given him. Mrs Speckson called the police. They asked the boy what the man had looked like. Ryan Speckson was seven… all men looked tall and all men had brown hair… he was unable to say what the man was wearing, but was able to recall what he'd said.

'Here you go boy… you'll need this later.'

He claimed that the bus had then arrived and he'd taken the candy and got on the bus. He'd never seen the man before.

The next day the delivery boy came with a package. No one answered the door, which was unusual because Mrs Speckson rarely went anywhere other than out the front to sell eggs. The delivery boy walked along the side of the house and tried to look in the window, but that, as has been reported previously was covered in blood and he couldn't see in. He drove back into town and called the cops.

That was what happened… the incidences which led up to Bobby Kirk's arrest. Obviously the cops wanted to talk to the school. They needed to know if anything unusual had happened and the only thing they could think of was that some young man with a camera had been hanging around. They _had_ told him to go away. They _had_ told him that they would call the cops. And there was another man too who had been asked to go away, but he just seemed to be looking for someone. He didn't seem dangerous. Neither of the men did, but one of them was taking photographs and was known by name as Bobby – or Bob Kirk. A simple lad… slightly soft in the head.

Whether Bobby was soft in the head or not didn't matter. What mattered was that in the garage at the house he lived in with his mother, father, and sister… was a pile of photographs and a large amount of them were of The Specksons. They kept asking Bobby why he had been stalking the family and Bobby refused to say. They asked him where he'd been the night of the murders and again Bobby refused to say. All he would say was that he was innocent. He had no alibi. He had been following and photographing the family. It was enough to arrest him. It was plenty for a jury to stamp his file as guilty. It was plenty to have that monster removed from the public arena never to be let out again.

That was the end of it…

Bobby had at last created the news story he'd been so desperate for. He never lived to read it in print though.

o-o-o

As the motel room door opened and then slammed behind him, Floyd could see that Spencer was pissed off about something. It might have been the cavorting half naked Sam who was dancing to some weird Arabian music playing on the television, but Spencer's eyes barely flickered in Sam's direction. Oh he saw the fun and games which had been going on in here, but the information which was now in Spencer's head was far more important and Sam and his sluttish behaviour.

'You lied.' Spencer spat at Floyd. 'I wouldn't mind, really I wouldn't, if you thought to trust that I'd understand and… and…'

'Calm down, Babes. Sam be a sweetheart and get dressed… maybe pop out for some lunch? Spencer and I need some private time.' He then ignored Sam and turned to confront Spencer whose rage was very evident. 'Just sit and calm yourself. I'm not going to discuss this in front of Sam.'

So though he didn't _want_ to calm himself he sat on the brown chair which was against the wall next to a small table and it felt almost as though the anger was being sucked away. He stood… he was told to sit down again. 'I don't want to sit!' He shouted… and he flinched back from Floyd who put a hand on Spencer's shoulder and shoved him back into the chair.

'Don't you fucking argue with me. I said we will talk… not in front of Sam.'

'Why not in front of him? He has as much right to know.'

Floyd prodded Spencer hard in the chest. 'Sam has no rights over anything. He's going now… see… see… I'm handing him cash and he's gong to go to that place around the corner and have pancakes and then he's going to select something nice and bring it back. Sam is going to take his fucking time and he's going to stay out of trouble. Understand?' Sam nodded, snatched the money and was gone… 'Now, what have I lied about and what has blown you into such anger?'

'The Specksons. You killed them. You tore them apart and skinned them.'

Floyd raised an eyebrow and sat on the edge of the bed. 'And where did this information come from, because if that's true then surely the cops are going to come and arrest me.'

'You know full well that some poor young man called…'

'Bobby Kirk. Yes I know what happened to Bobby Kirk… and that makes me guilty how? I don't get your train of thought.'

Spencer went to stand again. He couldn't think when he was sitting. He couldn't think _angrily_… but Floyd did his teleporting act and was there pushing Spencer back down into the chair before he'd managed to straighten his legs.

'You… you… I don't know. It's the MO. It's _your_ MO and I refuse to believe that you were here at the time and hanging around that family and you…'

'I was… I admit. I was hanging around but it was curiosity which caused it. The same curiosity which had Bobby interested in them. Swear on my mother's life that I didn't kill them.'

Spencer folded his arms around himself and shook his head. He was a long way from convinced. 'You don't have a mother.' He snarled at Floyd, 'and that doesn't explain what happened to them or why you were so curious.'

Floyd slid back to sitting on the edge of the bed. 'Tell me all you've remembered. I'm stunned that it took you so long, but now it's there…' Floyd tapped his head with a finger… '… tell me all.'

Spencer spent the next five minutes going over the scant bit of information he had and now that he was sitting down and facing Floyd the evidence that Floyd had done this was very weak. 'But… the point is that you lied to me about what happened in that house. I don't want to live there, Floyd. I don't want to live where a family were slaughtered. I don't care who committed the crime, well yes, I do, but that's another matter. What I'm bothered about is why you saw fit to lie to me.'

'This is all about me saying about the ghost?' He watched Spencer's head nod and Floyd sighed. 'I didn't lie as such. The place has strange auras… oddities. It was more of a possession than a haunting. It's clean now.'

'Irrelevant. You lied to me.'

'I lie to you constantly. Why is this such a biggy?'

'What was the curiosity you had with Mrs Speckson. It surely wasn't because she was a good looking woman.'

'Certainly not.' Floyd smiled and tucked his hair behind his ears. 'Mrs Speckson was a good looking man though. It's a long story and Bobby found some of it out. The town like to say that he was a poor journalist, but when he put his mind to it he could sniff out stuff… and he sniffed out that deception pretty well. As did I. That's how I met Bobby Kirk.'

'What?' Again Spencer stood and again Floyd pushed him back down again. 'A man? She had children!'

'Amelia Speckson wasn't who she appeared to be and Bobby Kirk was very close to the truth. Very… but not quite as close as I was. I saw him at the school gates. He made things so obvious. He was not hiding the fact that he was taking photos of the boys.'

'But why? If he was suspicious about the _mother_ why did he want photos of the boys?'

'Evidence! Why the fuck do you think? I said; he was good at his job. He left no page unturned. He saw me giving Ryan the bag of sweets and he assumed that I knew the boy. Kirk was on me like a fly on shit. He wanted to know everything. Of course I couldn't tell him what or who I was… I couldn't do that, but…'

'Why kill them!' Spencer shouted.

'Hey now… calm… I said calm. I didn't kill them. The only person I might have damaged was Bobby because he was unable to give an alibi as to where he was that night… Now… had he told them where he was then I would have killed him, but he was a good boy and he kept his mouth shut. That was until he was in the damned prison and asked for a priest. He was going to confess all… and I'd told him to remain silent on the matter. Bobby Kirk thought that as he was locked away from my influence that he was safe.'

'Poor guy.' Spencer spoke with sorrow in his voice. 'You made him kill him self.'

Floyd got up from the bed and now took the couple of steps over to Spencer. 'I could do that then and I can do that now. Don't think I cant or wont. You will keep your trap shut. I don't want Sam finding out.'

'Sam already knows.' Spencer hissed back.

'Sam doesn't know everything. He only knows enough to keep him satisfied. Don't talk to him of it.'

'Then who killed them. It wasn't you, it wasn't Kirk…'

'Well that's hopefully what we're going to find out. It's like a small ghost hunt. We will move in and lure it out.'

'And Mrs Speckson? What about her – him – whatever…'

'Another time… let me relax you. Rest back… hands off your lap. I want to show you something awesome.'

Spencer slapped Floyd away for now. He wasn't feeling at all like he was going to be able to perform any magic for Floyd. Even Floyd's mouth wasn't going to get results today. 'Stop with the distractions and tell me about Mrs Speckson.'

Floyd let out a long tired sigh and sat back on his heels. He rested his hands on Spencer's knees which had snapped together tight enough that Floyd would have needed a crowbar to get access. 'Why? What's so important? I didn't kill them. Whatever they pulled out of the dark was what killed them.'

'Why kill the chickens?' Spencer asked… he was looking down at Floyd's hands ready to fight them off.

'I didn't. Nor did Bobby. I know that wasn't Bobby because he was with me that night.'

Spencer ground his teeth at Floyd. He was getting more questions the more Floyd answered. 'How do I know that? You admitted that you lie to me, so why should I believe you?'

Floyd sat right back onto the floor now, his back against the end of one of the beds. 'Trust. I thought we were going to trust each other, but you have obviously been out nosing around. You've not come to all these conclusions alone. Who have you been talking to? You said you went to the library, but where else did you go? And remember that I'll know if what you say is a lie.'

Spencer swallowed back on the saliva gathering in his mouth and licked his lips. 'I went to the library, found some information and so I went to the cops and asked what else I should know and then I walked up to the house to confirm in my mind that I had seen that place before, albeit in a photograph, but I had seen it and heard of it. I'd heard of Bobby Kirk and the murders. I just couldn't remember where or why. It was before my BAU days… it was whilst…'

'You were having a very bad time with your mother. We'd been out one night and come home and she was standing virtually naked in the doorway screaming about something.'

Spencer put his head into his hands. His shoulders slumped and he let out a small mewling sound. Oh he remembered that time very well. It was then that Floyd persuaded him to send her to Bennington. It was then that Floyd disappeared for a couple of months. 'You abandoned me when I most needed you.'

Floyd denied that. 'I left you with your mother. My presence wouldn't have been wanted and you damned well know that. I put everything in place for you. All you needed to do was sign on the dotted line. I was there for you during the whole fucking process so don't say I abandoned you. I left for a few weeks so you could have time to make sure she was well and settled without any distractions and I came here to follow up on something I'd heard whispers of and it interested me.'

'You put yourself first.' Spencer spat back. 'You never think to ask me what I would have liked. I needed you. I needed someone to come home to and hold and keep me safe and tell me all was going to be OK. I needed reassurance not someone running off to the other side of the country to play some damned detective game.'

'And what has your mother got to do with anything? I was just saying that was when I came here. What the fuck is your problem? I _do_ put you first. I bonded with you didn't I? I died so that you could…'

'Oh right!' Spencer had bounced to his feet again. 'Throw that at me again! Go for it.'

'I will do and I'll keep doing it until it stops getting a reaction from you. It's too much fun to waste. Sit the fuck down or I'll tie you to the chair. You want answers then I'll give them, but not like this. Not with you accusing me of shit I didn't do.'

'Ha!' Spencer rounded on Floyd. 'When you have a reputation of killing and eating people, don't look so offended when people die and get eaten and I don't assume it's you! You've brought that on yourself. I'm going out front for a smoke. When I'm calm again I might listen to you, but I'm so mad with you right now that you could tell me that your name is Isgar-Quenell and I'd not believe you.'

'Don't you fucking talk to me like that! You whoreson!' The door to the room slammed again and Floyd was left standing alone wondering what went wrong and why.

Spencer paced angrily, puffing at a battered cigarette and kicking up stones on the small pathway leading to the parking lot. Sam stood with his back to a tree and watched him. He had eaten his food and had a brown bag stuffed with other nice things under his arm, but he'd heard the shouting and now Spencer obviously knew the big secret Sam had nothing to keep Floyd from slapping him around. He watched with his mouth in a tight angry line and then marched over to him. Sam thought that Spencer was so enraged that he might have been giving off radiation. 'You know that you've fucked everything up for me don't you?' Sam snarled at Spencer spraying syrup flavoured spittle into Spencer's face. 'The only reason he's been nice to me is because I said I'd tell you there'd been a murder there and now I've lost the only card I held. Hope when you see my broken body crumpled on the floor that you'll be satisfied. I can't believe that you'd do that to me. You have as good as murdered me. Happy now?'

'Stop being such a drama queen.' Spencer snarled back at him. 'If I've done anything wrong then I'm sorry, but you really weren't my first thought when I found out what happened in that house. Are you aware of what happened? You still want to live there?'

'I know bits… And yeah… I still want to live there and so does Floyd so I guess we out vote you and you're going to have to live there too.'

Spencer threw his cigarette butt to the floor and stamped it out with his toe. 'I don't have to. I can go home. I could return to Vegas. I don't have to stay here. If I am here it's because I want to be here not… Oh why am I trying to reason with _you_?' Spencer walked with a long stride back to the room where Floyd was waiting calmly with his fists at his side and blood on his mind.

And so for a while the three of them sat in silence. Floyd wanted to beat the shit out of both of them. Spencer was waiting for Floyd to start with his fists and Sam sulked on the bed and licked syrup off his fingers in a way which might have looked good at any other time than this. Spencer wanted answers. He wanted them all and he was about to demand them when Floyd stood up and threw the car keys at Spencer. They smacked him on the chest, bounced off and landed on the floor next to his feet. 'Go back home if that's what you want so badly, but don't expect me to come running after you when you start getting lonely. And take that miserable bitch with you.' He jabbed a finger in Sam's direction. 'I try so fucking hard to make things nice for all of us. I thought this place would suit us all, but you have to treat everything with such suspicion and ruin it. Well you did a damned good job. It's ruined.'

Spencer bent down, picked up the keys and placed them on the table. 'You just don't understand do you? I want to be with you, but I want you to be honest with me. I want to know why this place, why now, what happened there. Why did Bobby Kirk do what he did and what the hell was going on with the Specksons. Why were you watching them? What was so damned interesting about a man pretending to be a woman? It's not so unusual is it? Nothing incredible. If the man wanted to dress in drag why was that such a draw for you? What was really going on?'

'I wanted to wait until we'd moved in. I was planning on telling strange stories beside an open fire. I had it planned out in my head. That's gone. You want me to tell you now?'

'Yes!' Spencer yelped out.

Sam let out a small whimpering sound and was ignored by both of them.

'It's all to do with them trying to call up someone dark. I'll tell you no more until you agree to move into the house with me.'

'They were communicating with something?' Sam asked, crawling forward so he could hear better and maybe be heard too.

Floyd turned to look at Sam and nodded. 'They were. They had their sacrifices. They had everything in place. The happy family. The kids… the books of dark magic. They were bolting forwards fast. I was in the house that day she could feel someone there. She called the cops but I got what I'd gone for and I destroyed it. It seemed that I left something behind though because they still tried to summon something up. Looks like they succeeded.'

'Sounds like it was you they summoned.' Sam pointed out and Spencer nodded.

'Wasn't me! How many times do I have to tell you!'

'When you stop lying.' Sam said just before the boot smacked his face and he flew back again onto his back and maybe Sam would have been correct and Floyd would have killed him for being such a pain in the arse, but Spencer moved in and pulled Floyd away from him.

'He's just speaking his mind. He can't help himself. Stop hitting him, please. Try to understand why we are so suspicious of your motives in moving us into this place. You say it wasn't you, then I'll believe you, but you must have an idea of who it was. You said you took a book…' Spencer dragged Floyd by the back of his belt away from Sam who was curled up with his arms over his head. 'That book must have said what they were doing.'

**a/n: not sure how this is going... XOX**


	5. Chapter 5

5

Any agreement of mutual niceties between Floyd and Sam went out of the window as quickly as it had arrived. Sam went into full blown whining mode and Floyd showed Spencer exactly how painful it is to be kneed in the groin. Though this gave Sam a small amount of satisfaction the problem hadn't gone away. Sam sat in the corner and watched Spencer crying and he liked it. He liked to see Spencer in pain and crying out like a baby. It was far past time that Floyd put Spencer back in the place he deserved to be. He'd ruined _everything_ and will continue to ruin things because Spencer just has to stick his nose and get things stirred up. It wasn't right and it wasn't fair. Spencer had been given so many chances (in Sam's view) and this was the end of it.

But that moaning from Spencer carried on. He was taking in big gulps of breath and had his hands rammed down between his legs and his chin pressed down onto his chest in a _pathetic_ attempt to stop Floyd from hitting him and still he _had_ to ask questions!

'What – what – what…' Well it wasn't much of a question really but it was enough to infuriate Floyd.

'Shut the fucking fuck up!'

So they were obviously open to negotiations here. Sam wanted to get out before the explosion which he could feel building up. He didn't want to be here when Floyd decided that Spencer was a liability.

'What did you… do – what – where is the… what…'

Again a stuttered, stammered attempt to ask something… but Spencer didn't get further as he had to try to talk between bouts of puking and wailing of pain. _Pathetic_… even Sam could take more than Spencer could and Sam reasoned that he was smaller than Spencer and not as heavy as Spencer and not so much experience… maybe… at least not from Floyd, but Sam thought he could take a smacking better than Spencer could and it wasn't Spencer really, out of the two of them, who had the real balls anyway. It couldn't have hurt _that _much.

'For my life! You fucking moan on and on. Why don't you shut up like Floyd tells you to and maybe…' Sam learnt why he was meant to remain silent at this time and got a fresh nose bleed.

'Where is the _book_?' At last Spencer managed to say what he'd been trying.

A ragged angry breath was pulled in by Floyd. A small keening noise burst out of Sam and Spencer just ground his teeth and awaited the next assault.

'The book? What fucking book? What the hell are you talking about?' Floyd hunkered down on the floor next to Spencer but it wasn't a particularly friendly gesture. Spencer didn't doubt that Floyd was about to start with the pinching and burning… the cheroot was stuffed into the corner of Floyd's mouth and he was dragging the smoke down and exhaling through his nose like his life depended on it.

'The book you took from the Specksons.' Spencer said in a low whisper.

'How do you know about that?' Floyd flicked his ash onto the side of Spencer's face.

'You told us.' Spencer muttered.

'Oh… I told you. Good answer. The best answer you could have given. I destroyed it and it was no easy matter believe me. It's why I had to have Bobby Kirk on my side. He could get to places I couldn't.'

Spencer rolled over on to his back, pulling one hand from the warm security of between his legs and wiped away the ash on his face. 'What sort of place?' Spencer couldn't think of anywhere Floyd couldn't just walk into if he wanted.

'The Church of The Immaculata.' Floyd told Spencer with a shudder. 'I might be able to go in there now, but this was ten odd years ago. Things were different. I had more constraints on my abilities. One of them was the stupid _holy_ ground rule. So yeah, I got Bobby Kirk to break into the church and get holy water. It's one of the reasons he had difficulty giving alibis to things. I knew where he'd been. I told him to keep his mouth shut. He did a good job of that at least. Once the book had been soaked in the water I could burn it. It set off a heat like you'd not believe. I sent it back to hell where it belongs.' Floyd smiled at the memory. 'So yeah… the book was gone, but they had something else they could use and damn if they weren't stupid enough to give it a go. That's what killed them… what killed Amelia Speckson, her kids and her husband.'

'Except it wasn't Amelia, it was a man.'

'No, it was Amelia.'

Spencer had had enough. One moment Floyd was saying that the woman was a man and now saying that it wasn't. 'You said that Amelia was a man!' He pushed up onto his elbows and snatched the cheroot out of Floyd's mouth. 'And I don't like having ash flicked on me. You'd not do it to a coffee table, so don't do it to me.'

Floyd wasn't sure if he was amused by Spencer's fresh burst of anger or if it annoyed him as much as he seemed to be annoying Spencer. He let Spencer have the cheroot, but lit up a fresh one. 'You need to listen to me carefully because, Hon, you seem to be getting very confused.' Floyd stood, walked over to Sam and prodded him with the toe of his boot. 'Get the food out and laid on the table. We shall sit and eat as a family and I will tell you why the mystery of Amelia was such a mystery. Unless neither of you are interested. I'm not going to eat dinner off the floor again. Picnics in the park is one thing, but you don't know what's been trampled into this carpet. Move!' An extra little prod which was only slightly less than a kick got Sam moving and doing what he was told.

They had a selection of potato chips, something to dip them into, bottles of cherry soda, some processed cheese wrapped in plastic, a few bread sticks and some slightly squashed cakes. It wasn't the banquet Floyd had wanted, but the three of them managed to sit there at the table and not try to ram the food down each other's throat. At least not at first.

'Owen and Amelia Trotter were twins.'

'Identical?' Sam asked.

Floyd sighed. 'Amelia had a cunny and Owen a dick, so no… not identical. Idiot. They were very alike, but brothers and sisters often are alike… they are by genetics, but these two were strikingly alike. Amelia married Speckson. That's nothing unusual or wrong or illegal, but Owen was also very close to Speckson, but not in a sexual way. Owen and Speckson were both straight. They both… well.'

'Don't be shy.' Sam spat bits of chips over the table.

'The kids weren't Speckson's they were Owen's.'

'Owen was married?' Spencer wiped some soggy bits off the pack of chips he was holding.

'No. Owen wasn't. Owen was very devoted to his sister.'

'Eww… That's both illegal and immoral. I'm surprised the kids didn't have horrible birth defects. Iolanda used to call inbreds… _pig-faced-cousin-brothers_ or sisters… depending. Not that you could always tell… but eeww…. That's nasty and Speckson didn't mind?'

'That's not what he meant.' Spencer took a drink of cherry soda and wished he'd not. It was almost as vile as the instant coffee the room provided.

'That's precisely what I meant. Thank you Sam for following the story. Anyway, Owen was not only very into his sister but was very into the slightly macabre and dark… he had a deep interest in the after life.'

'Uh hu… so he was going to use his off spring as a trade?'

'Sacrifice. But the oldest was still too young. You have to have the inevitable virgin – gender not specific, but he or she has to be over a certain age. Remember that we are talking the dark arts here Spencer, don't look so repulsed. It's not like you've not enjoyed a finger or two since you were a child.'

That was it. That was finally the last straw. Spencer stood up and had there been food worth throwing then it would have been thrown at Floyd, but the satisfaction of throwing processed cheese and packs of chips was not all that great. 'You never give up do you?' Spencer shouted at Floyd. 'You can't just tell us what's going on and not try to degrade us at the same time. What happened with me and my father…'

'…never happened. So sit the fuck down and stop making a bloody fool of yourself.'

Spencer remained standing and the cherry soda was becoming an object which might well be thrown soon if this damned nonsense didn't stop. 'I know what happened to me! Don't you _dare_ try to tell me I imagined that! It's what has made me what I am. It's made me the person I am. Don't you take that from me and say it never happened. I know it happened. I was too scared to come out of my bedroom in case…'

Floyd reached for Spencer's arm and tugged on his sleeve… 'Sit. I didn't say it never happened I said it never happened to you and your father. Sit the fuck down and listen will you.'

'You…' Spencer started.

'…Me… Now sit or this story ends right now.'

'My father…'

'…Never touched you. Do you think I'd allow that to happen? Do you really think I'd let him live if I thought he was touching what I was meant to be protecting? Give me a break Spencer. Sit down.'

'I know…'

'No you don't. You _think_ you know. But you don't. It wasn't your father.'

Spencer stood shaking his head with a puzzled look on his face. 'I remember it happening.'

'Your memory is faulty. Sit the fuck down or so help me I'll enforce my request.'

He sat but he was far from happy. 'My mother…'

'…Allowed it to happen.' Floyd told Spencer. 'Now that is another story though and we are not interested in who molested you as a child or who stood by and let it happen. We are interested in the Speckson family, so stop interrupting and trying to drag the attention back to yourself.'

'It's… I was…'

'Shut up and eat your dinner.' Sam snapped. 'I for one am not interested in your misery. I have enough of my own. Carry on Floyd.'

Floyd picked up his bottle of cherry soda and drank back a few gulps and then placed it on the table, screwing the lid back on. He had a feeling that his piss would be pink neon… 'Sam… Sam, I know you're trying to help, but you're not. So shut up. You don't know what's going on and you have no idea about what has gone on. Sit in silence and maybe question, but don't assume that you know better. Don't _ever_ think that.' Floyd then looked at Spencer who was sitting as though he had a spring under his backside and was ready to leap up at the first mention of something he couldn't get his head around. 'May I continue?' He asked. There were no answers to that so he did. 'Where was I? Right… the eldest boy was fifteen… too young to be used. I knew this and I told Bobby this. I don't know who they intended to use because by taking the book they moved things forwards and tried to rush. They knew someone was on to them. Amelia had been living in the basement for the past year. They'd been living off her blood. Using her as a channel. She was crippled and wasting away. I saw her that day I was in the house. The day Owen called the cops and they found the broken glass. She was chained up. Horrible. The stink of shit and piss and dirt… disgusting. They were going to use Amelia as their sacrifice. At least that's what I think they were going to do. Though she was obviously not a virgin as she'd birthed the boys. A mix of the four boys and the mother handed over by the twin and the husband, well that's quite an offer don't you think?'

'Quite.' Spencer muttered. 'Why didn't you inform the cops that Amelia was in the basement and Owen was pretending to be her?'

'Long story short… I wanted to see what would happen.'

'You know what they were going to do…'

'I suspected. I didn't know. Remember that I destroyed the book. They couldn't summon using that. So I was still curious to see what was going to happen. Now what I want to know, because I know for sure that something un-natural happened that night, I want to pull that thing back again and find out what it was.'

Sam's hand shot up and Floyd nodded towards him to speak. 'You said that the boys were home schooled. So how was Bobby Kirk outside the school taking photos?'

Floyd smiled at Sam and nodded. 'Good… It was summer school. Speckson and Owen wanted the boys out of the way for a short while each day. Though why none of them said anything about the odd things at home I never found out. I tried talking to Ryan, the youngest, but he wouldn't open up and speak. I want to know what killed their chickens. I want to know what scared the horses. I do want to know these things. I want to know if what was unleashed is still free and I want you, Spencer to understand that though things happen and though we think that we remember it as it is it sometimes gets twisted and we lose the picture we could originally see.'

'Why did they sell eggs and was that Amelia or Owen and why didn't anyone realise that Owen was pretending to be a chick?'

Floyd grinned at Sam. The boy had been listening whereas Spencer seemed to have shifted his attention to his own woes and had wrapped his arms around his chest and was rocking back and forth slowly in his chair. 'As far as I know, from what little information I could get, Amelia was removed from the scene after the birth of Ryan. Owen had been playing the part for seven years. It was widely reported by locals who I spoke to that Amelia Speckson was inclined to wear too much makeup, that her socialisation had plummeted after the birth of the youngest and they all thought she had some sort of post natal depression – but no one seemed sure. The boys were never schooled locally. They only went to summer school for a few weeks during that final summer. Owen did a very good job of pretending to be his sister and likely – well at least in my opinion that was only possible because of the closeness they had due to being twins. The egg selling thing was just something which they'd done since they took over the place. It wasn't common knowledge that Amelia had a brother. Who would suspect that they'd changed places? No one.'

Spencer stood at this point. 'I need to sleep and let my mind collate all of this information. It makes no sense.'

'Makes sense to me.' Sam said. 'Owen got Speckson interested in the dark arts. They produced the children needed and then put Amelia out of the way when she was no longer needed. A lot of dark magics involve blood and what better place to get it than from a chicken. The problem is that it can mess up the final results if you rely too heavily on it. The oldest boy was virginal but not old enough… that made the magics go even more awry… not to mention the missing book. Now if they checked out the remains they must have found Speckson's the four kids and Amelia. They didn't find Owen, so where did Owen go? That's interesting too. I'd like to know. How much did Bobby Kirk know?'

Spencer sat down again with a small sigh. 'Forensics would have known who the remains were of unless they assumed, but that's doubtful… there were six bodies and seven people involved, so one got away. Which one though? And did DNA testing take place? Did they find out that Speckson wasn't the genetic father of the boys?'

Floyd though, stood and pushed his chair back out of the way. He's talked enough for one day and he thought that Spencer was right. Let the information sink in and then discuss it more later.

'And you have no idea what they called?' Spencer was still rocking in his seat.

'Babes, I know what they meant to call and I don't think it worked. Come here.' Floyd had moved to the bed and patted the place next to where he was sitting. 'I'll give you a nice calming massage.'

'I'm too stressed.' Spencer snapped with irritation. 'There is too much going on in my head to be able to play games now. I need to go for a walk and think it all over.'

'Babes… lay on your front. You don't even have to take your shirt off…'

'Then I'll not bother staying to watch.' Sam moaned. 'There's a bar down town I thought I'd check out. If that's OK?'

Floyd waved Sam away. He was concentrating on Spencer now. He had to have the man on side or things would go wrong before they'd even moved in to the house which Floyd very much suspected still housed the monster which killed the Speckson family… including Amelia, not including Owen. He had to get Spencer back on track and stop him from thinking about what his father may or may not have done. The more Spencer asked the deeper the hole Floyd was digging for himself.

o-o-o

Sam was dressed to kill. Or maybe to be killed. He didn't disguise the fact that he was not looking at the girls. He didn't hide the way that he hung around out side the bar looking for someone to spend the evening with. He looked like a common slut and behaved like one. At first he was ignored or just looked over once then either laughed at or pushed to the back of the minds of the people. He couldn't go inside. He was obviously too young. And though this place seemed to be attracting mostly well groomed men and the occasional flirty female, no one was as obviously _out_ as Sam was. Sam finally got to talk to someone by going over to a small crowd and asking if anyone had a light. Then someone took pity on the weirdo and got him a drink of orange juice.

'You shouldn't be hanging around here.' Sam was told. 'It's not the place for kids.'

Sam let out a small laugh and told them that he might look young but he bet he'd had more experience than any of them. This just made them think that the lad was a whore and they drifted away from him again. Sam pursued them. 'I'm new to the area.' He told them.

'I'd think we would have noticed you before if you were a local.' One of the bearded leather clad men told him. 'Look lad, not meaning to sound mean or anything, but shouldn't you be at home with your folks doing your homework?'

'Funny.' Sam smirked. 'I'm not as young as I look.'

'Sorry kid.' Sam was told by someone else, 'but maybe you're not fourteen, but you're certainly not twenty-one. I don't want to be arrested for hanging with an underage whore. Go away.'

It was a fair enough remark, but Sam didn't give up just yet. 'I'm not underage for any damned thing. I've been…'

'Go away.'

'You can't make me go away!' Sam snapped at them. 'This is a public area and if I want to be here then I'll be here. I don't think there's much you can do about that.'

There was something they could do about it. Five of them dragged Sam around the corner and smacked him hard enough to make him howl and wriggle… still though, maybe… like a whore wanting more… 'Oh yes… hurt me big boy… pound me till I bleed.'

So they did, but not in the manner Sam had hoped. And as Sam walked away wiping blood from his nose yet again they called at him to go home to mummy and daddy. They told him not to come back. They said he and his sort weren't welcome. They gave their community a bad name. They told him to sod off and never show his face there again.

Sam was inclined to go to the cops, but he _did_ look underage and he had been hanging around a gay bar and he _had_ wanted more than a slapping, so what could he say? Well he tried anyway. He wasn't going to. He was going to go and report them to Floyd… set his own personal dog onto the bastards but a cop car pulled up and a man in uniform got out and approached Sam. They wanted to know who he was and what he was doing out this late. They wanted to know why he was dressed like he was and why he looked like he'd been in a fight. They could see the scars on his arms and they could see the twitchy way Sam responded to their questions and they decided to search him. Sam decided to tell them to go to hell. They thought Sam needed to be cuffed and put in the car. Sam thought he should hit, scratch, bite and kick. Sam was cuffed and put into the back of the car and delivered to the local precinct where they took his name and address and promised to call his parents as soon as they could.

He spent the night in a cell with a drunk and a druggy. Sam wasn't happy. Sam really wasn't happy and the more unhappy he got the more vocal he got and the less inclined the cops became to calling the motel and letting Floyd know where he was.

'You can't do this! I've done nothing!'

But he was told that he resisted a search. He resisted arrest. He attacked a police officer. He was in trouble.

o-o-o

Floyd didn't miss Sam. He gently cajoled Spencer into a good mood. He slowly touched and massaged him and felt Spencer relax under his expert hands. He licked the back of Spencer's neck and felt that familiar wriggle… From that point on all thoughts of anything but what he could get and how much he could get was gone from his mind. Spencer on his front, on his back… on his knees… Floyd on his knees, on his back… on the damned ceiling at one point… he was sure of it. Across the table, over the chairs… in the shower… every available surface and both Spencer and Floyd spent not one second thinking of Sam who as Spencer let out a wail of wonder and pressed his hands against the tiles in the small shower, was sitting in a cell with his hands between his legs demanding a toilet other than the one some fat bloke had just had a shit in.


	6. Chapter 6

6

Floyd claimed that he didn't have time to sort out Sam's problems. This was after the early morning call to say that he'd been arrested for attacking a police officer. Floyd claimed that he had to sort things out at the house and that Spencer was far more able to talk his way around the law than he was, thus it was Spencer who drove out to the police station Sam was being held at and he wasn't too happy about it. He'd had a lovely evening with Floyd and had wanted to continue the relaxed feeling, but Sam had ruined everything again. Always Sam. Why did Sam have to mess up something as simple as going into town and staying out of trouble? Spencer wanted to go to the house with Floyd. He wanted to keep an eye on the man and make sure that he wasn't up to anything more than he'd all ready revealed. But no… Spencer had to drop what he wanted to do so that he could go running after Sam and haul him back to them again safely.

Sam had been dragged in to talk to a Youth Liaison Officer. A nice lady with brown hair and warm brown eyes. She didn't ask Sam too much but gave him leaflets about sexually transmitted diseases, how to spot them, what to do, how to get treatment and how to avoid it. She gave Sam more leaflets about drug and alcohol independence and how to cope and where to get help. She seemed shocked that someone who looked so young should be in such a mess…

'You know you can talk to me.' She told him.

But Sam had talked to so many people over the years and either the believed him and locked him up or they didn't believe him and they ignored him. 'I just want to be loved.' Sam moaned. 'I went out looking for friendship.'

'Sometimes we look for friendships in the wrong places. Someone has been called and is coming down to pick you up, but I'm afraid that you _did_ bite, kick and scratch a police officer, that can't happen.'

Sam fiddled with his fingers and nodded. 'They scared me. I'd already been beaten up that night and they scared me. I reacted badly and I'm sorry. I'll apologise to him.'

She smiled. He seemed like a nice lad who just needed attention and love. She could have wrapped him up and taken him home herself. She could have brought the good out of that lad. She left Sam with a mug of coffee and went out to meet up with the person who had come to collect Sam.

'Dr Reid?' She put her hand out and then dropped it again. The man looked like a genuine creep. He looked sweaty, dirty, and he looked like he'd spent the night shooting up. The man who liked to be called Doctor, looked a mess.

'I'm here for Sam?' A question.

'I was expecting his mother or father to come and collect him. You're surely not old enough to be his father.'

'No, no… no I'm not his father. I'm a friend of his… of… I'm…' Spencer wasn't sure what he classed himself as.

'I need to ask you Dr Reid and I know that you wont give me an honest answer, but I need to alert you to the fact. Are you Sam's pimp?'

Spencer's eye brows shot up into his hairline. He opened his mouth to talk and then closed it again. 'Sam told you that?'

'No. Sam's told me very little. You don't deny it?'

'Of course I deny it! What a stupid question! No! I'm not his pimp. No one is Sam's pimp! He's sixteen for the love of… for… for… he's sixteen.'

She nodded at Spencer, maybe happy with the reply. Maybe convinced and maybe not. 'Age has little relevance in cases like this. He's obviously been taking drugs, if not last night, then in the past. He's got track marks on his arms and…' And she trailed off as Spencer suddenly folded his arms. Though he had long sleeves on it was as though she could see through the fabric of his shirt. '… and between his toes…' She finished.

Spencer just stood with his arms crossed staring at the wall. It was as though this woman was probing directly into his brain and seeing every nasty thing he'd ever done and was feeling every dirty thought he'd ever had. The slight sweaty state he was already in became worse. He could feel sweat running down the side of his face but dared not move his hands in case this damned woman saw something he didn't want her to see. 'Did you know that Sam was taking drugs?'

Spencer let out a grunt of assent. 'He's clean now. He's had problems.'

She nodded. 'And you?'

'My problems are none of your business. I'm clean, if that's what you're asking.'

'The problem is that Sam seems to be a vulnerable young man and I need to make sure that he's going somewhere safe.'

Now Spencer groaned. How many times had that been thought of concerning Sam and how many times had Spencer managed to prove the suspicions of the authorities to be correct. Spencer was a threat to Sam's wellbeing. Floyd was a bigger threat. Yes Sam took drugs and sold his body for money… they knew that, they knew that the conditions and habits surrounding Sam were not going the change. All Spencer could do was lie and that wasn't always his best skill. He had to feel that his life was endangered to be able to lie like a god.

'I will be moving into the old Speckson house soon. Sam is the legal ward of the new owner and I am that man's lover. Sam will be perfectly safe with us. We don't take drugs, there is no obvious sexual activity carried out in front of Sam. It's a normal household and we do both love Sam and care for him deeply – on an emotional level not a physical one. Sam had a hard start and now we are attempting to give the boy what he needs. Sam needs very special handling. He's been extremely traumatised fairy recently. He went out for a walk last night and didn't come home again. I personally know that there is small point in reporting someone like Sam missing that first night he fails to return home. I was a Federal Agent. I know how the policing of missing young people works. I'm not saying it's right, but I _am_ saying that I know that I would have been told to give him more time to return home of his own volition. That was why no one had reported him missing and I'm telling you this because I know that you are going to ask why someone so young was allowed to wander the streets all night and not be reported. Tell me that I'm wrong.'

She slowly shook her head. 'You're not wrong. I do have to tell you that Sam is going to have to report back here later today and apologise to the officer he attacked.'

'That's fine. I understand and I am thankful that is all that's going to happen.'

'Keep a closer eye on the lad. Next time he might not be lucky enough to be picked up by a friendly police officer who saw a young man in obvious distress.'

'I understand.' Spencer smiled and his fingers twitched as though trying to get him to shake the woman's hand. He ignored them.

Sam for one of the first times in his life didn't over react and make a drama out of anything. When Spencer walked into the room he stood, straightened his clothes and spoke quietly. 'I'm sorry. I didn't meant to get into trouble.' He looked at his feet, avoiding Spencer's face in case he burst out laughing of decide to leap into his saviours arms.

For a moment Spencer did nothing. He had been preparing himself for a barrage of abuse of maybe of tears and hugs, but Sam just stood there looking as though he meant every word he was saying. 'Well, I hope we can sort this out quickly. I'm sure you would like to get home and sleep in a bed. Did they look after you all right?' Spencer asked.

'Oh you know. They locked me in a cell with a guy who had the shits and another who was swearing and as high as a kite, but no one raped me or even asked for a blow job…'

'Good!' Spencer cut off Sam's words quickly. 'That's excellent. We can go then and later I'll bring you back and you will have to apologise properly to the officer you er… you bit…'

Sam kept up this calm exterior but Spencer could sense that Sam was bubbling with rage and about to explode. They got out of the building as quick as they could and into Spencer's car where Sam's real feelings burst from him in a torrent. 'They fucking picked me up cos they thought I had drugs and I didn't but even if I did what the fuck? Why me? Why do people pick on me and what the fuck are you doing here anyway and where the hell is Floyd and I don't see why I should fucking well have to apologise to the pig. Have you seen what that whore gave me? She assumed that I was out looking for sex. She assumed that I would need information on STD's and she thought I should seek help about drug abuse. Why do people think that of me? Why is it always assumed that I'm that way? I used to dress in baggy dungarees and…'

'Sam.' Spencer put a hand on Sam's which was thumping the dashboard. 'You have old track marks and you're dressed like a cheep rent boy. What do you _think_ they're going to assume. Maybe it's unfair but unfortunately people do tend to judge by appearances. They thought I was your pimp.' Spencer let out a sigh.

'I am entitled to wear what I bloody well want! No one can force me to be like a fucking expressionless clone of every other teenager around. I want to be an individual. And I should be allowed to have that right and not be picked on. I went to a gay bar… what did they do? They smacked me because they said I was too young and made it look bad for them. I can't even make friends with other butt fuckers!'

There was a tiny bit of Spencer that wanted to tell Sam that _he_ was his friend but a much larger part of himself that wasn't surprised that Sam couldn't make friends if that was his attitude.

o-o-o

A week passed with nothing of real note happening. Sam made his apologies and the cop accepted it. Floyd again didn't show his face to the cops which in one respect was bothering Spencer because maybe there was something more going on that Floyd hadn't told either of them about. Floyd explained that he didn't want to stir where it was un-necessary and that Spencer had it all under control. There was no need for him to let his presence been known. The house was almost ready to move into and Floyd seemed to get quieter as the time got closer. He distanced himself slightly from Spencer and Sam and concentrated on making sure that everything was in place and perfect.

'I need it to be perfect.' That was Floyd's mantra when asked how things were going.

Sam told Floyd that he thought that they were here just to have a look and not hang around until it was finished. He missed being at home and he missed the familiar surroundings and he missed the lovely bed at Spencer's place. Spencer missed it too. The beds in the motel room were big, but not as comfortable as being at home. And the more Floyd seemed to back away from the pair of them the closer Spencer and Sam seemed to get. They spent one afternoon shopping for more clothes for Sam. Spencer thought that with his guidance that Sam might actually end up having something almost respectable to wear. Sam thought that with Spencer's input he was going to end up looking like a fool, but it turned out all right in the end. Spencer thinking that he'd done a good job and Sam thinking that he'd manipulated Spencer into having what he wanted anyway. Truth was that Spencer actually liked to see Sam dressed in a slightly slutty manner. He had his cool dressing hard man Floyd on one arm and his little slutty friend on the other. What more could a man want?

And Floyd watched them. He could see what was going on here. It didn't surprise him in the slightest. Sam would cling on to anyone and anything that gave him attention. Spencer seemed to be very much the same. Though Spencer and Sam were very different in almost every way, they were also very alike… at least that's what Floyd could see. The more he pulled away to watch them, the closer they became. Holding hands… the light touching and brushing of hands on arms and legs… the more obvious touching and fondling they started when they thought Floyd wasn't watching. He noted the almost guilty and secret looks they gave each other… the teasing way Sam would eat with his fingers and lick them clean. If they were trying purposefully to wind him up then it was working. It let him see that they were as faithless as he always knew they were. It let him see that no matter what he did for them as soon as his back was turned they'd be on each other like… well like two cheap whores.

That was OK.

Floyd liked cheap whores which was why he was with them, but now it was time to stop the games and put his foot down; the proverbial one and the one with the boot on it. And they seemed to have forgotten that Floyd had other concerns… other things bothering him… oh yes… take your eyes off the sluts for five minutes and they forget you exist.

'So…' Floyd said. '…you wanted to know who it was molesting you all the time you thought it was William?'

Sam quickly moved his hands onto his own lap and Spencer blushed a deep red. He'd almost forgotten that Floyd was there, even if his nose had been deep in paperwork for the past week… Floyd was still very much there. Neither Spencer or Sam responded to Floyd's question.

'I had words with William. Long conversations with the man. I also spoke to Diana but small point there. She didn't listen. She didn't want to hear what I had to say. William though was a different matter. He listened and he heard.'

Spencer moved slightly away from Sam and turned to look at Floyd. 'I know what happened.' He told him. 'If my memory is at fault then I don't care. That's what I know. That's what I want to remember. I don't need you telling me otherwise. I have lived with that knowledge for a long time. I've accepted it. I've forgiven him for anything he might have done.'

Floyd shook his head. 'You have to know the truth though. In a way, William was to blame.'

Now Spencer stood up. 'Stop. Please. I'm asking you to stop. Everything is going well. We are happy. No one is fighting or bleeding and that's a good place to be. Please don't spoil it. It's almost as though you don't like to see us happy. You want to ruin things and make us fight and be at each other's throats. Can you just accept that we are getting on great? That we have a bond with each other and this can work?'

'Fat chance.' Sam moaned. 'He's not going to want to see us happy if he can see us miserable. He thrives on it.'

'Thank you, Sam.' Floyd smirked. 'You know me so well. But that's not what I wanted to talk about this for. Tomorrow we will move into the house and I want everything sorted. I don't want to drag old shit to the new place. I don't want you touching like that in public. I don't want you petting Sam. I don't want you two being alone together.' He paused. 'I don't trust you.' He folded up the paperwork and shoved it into a folder. 'I've been completing this house business and all you two have done is touch each other when you think I'm not looking. Frankly, I'm sick of it.' Floyd then stood and went to the bathroom where he slammed the door behind him.

'What the hell?' Sam got up from where he was sitting on a cushion and looked at Spencer. 'He's jealous! Oh my fucking god! Flanders is jealous! I don't fucking believe it! That's so bloody funny!'

It didn't feel amusing to Spencer. It felt like the prelude to violence and pain and not the sort he liked either. 'There's something going on with him.'

'No fucking kidding! Oh my _GOD_! I would never have thought that he'd be jealous of his dog and his whore! That's so fucking funny because I don't actually want you to fuck me! You're really rubbish at that. You can blow me though, if you remember all the tricks I've told you about and I know you have cos I've heard Floyd yelping. What's he doing in the bathroom? Wanking?'

'Just stop it!' Spencer rounded on Sam. 'Can't you see this is what he wants…' He was going to say more but Floyd burst from the bathroom and hurled his boots across the room. One hit Sam on the top of the head, the other caught Spencer in the chest. They were both well aimed and hit where Floyd had meant them too.

'When I died…'

'Oh crap… he's going to cry now.' Sam's words burst out before he could stop them. Spencer would have slapped him if he'd been close enough.

'When I died…' Floyd spoke again. '… Ah… what the fuck. Why do I bother? Someone out there has a piece of me as a trophy and I need it back at some point. So when you can be bothered to look… I'd have you find Bern for me.' Floyd then threw himself on the bed and laid there on his stomach with his face buried in the pillow.

'He's crying.' Sam muttered to Spencer. 'The big boy is crying. Oh shit… I wish I had a camera.'


	7. Chapter 7

7

Jealous, maybe wasn't the feeling Floyd had running through him. He certainly wasn't crying his woes out onto his cheap motel pillow. _Stressed_ might have been the right word to use. Deep down he didn't give a damn if Spencer and Sam played games when he was unable to give his full attention, but they could at least pretend not to be messing around behind his back. If they were going to mess around he wanted it as a floor show. He'd pay good money to watch if it was done honestly.

Dishonesty made Floyd angry.

Though he was perhaps one of the most dishonest people on the planet, he still loathed to see it in others. It was almost as though it took some of his own crap and deflected it and took it for themselves. Really would Spencer act in such a sluttish way if Floyd hadn't spend neigh on two decades grooming him to be exactly the way he was. The sweet innocent, shy, socially awkward young man in public and a total whore in private. That was for Floyd's pleasure and he needed to remind them both of that. As for Sam? Well… Sam looked as though he was stepping out of the room to have a smoke in the fresh afternoon light – he was only partially dressed and there would be complaints and Floyd guessed that they'd all be arrested for having sex with an underaged boy.

'Sam… get dressed properly if you're going out. The whole world might _want_ to see your beautiful arse, but I'm feeling oddly possessive right now.'

It was a good point and one that Spencer nodded at… in his smug _I would have said that_ way. The sooner they had the privacy of the house the better. Though Floyd didn't think that they'd be there long. His dream of finding somewhere perfect seemed to drift with the seasons. They'd certainly not be there this time next year and he was realising that this had been a mistake. A mistake that he'd never admit to, but if he didn't do this with his boys he'd have to do it alone and leaving his boys behind wasn't on the agenda.

Trust seemed to no longer exist.

Not just the trust between the pair of them, but their total inability to stay loyal to one person for longer than the blood rushed in their ears. Floyd realised that he'd created, not the wonderful three way love pact he thought he was heading for, but a tangle of bitching, cheating, mistrust and loathing. He needed them both at his side without question but now… too many thoughts of _if_ … would they die for him? This was Floyd's burning question. Sure Spencer had maybe done that in the past, but Floyd's own death by Iolanda overshadowed every small and large sacrifice Spencer had ever made, and Sam never once had done something self sacrificial for him. The furthest Sam would go was to put on a pair of pants that had an arse in them.

Yes… Floyd was sulking. He felt he had a right to and was not going to apologise for it, but he certainly wasn't in tears.

That night Floyd slept with Spencer. Sam slept alone in the tub and yes Sam was sulking and yes Sam felt pushed out and angry, but Floyd had picked him up and thrown him in the bathroom and told him to stay there until the morning. Spencer maybe looked as though he was going to object, but he wavered, stood back and eventually ignored Sam's howls of protest. This was something he would have to answer to later, but for now he had some of Floyd's attention.

Spencer felt that childish pang of exhilaration that he'd won the prize for the night and he knew it was childish and he knew that it was unfair and that he should speak up for Sam, but the thought of the tides changing and being the one forced to spend the night in the bathroom whilst Floyd hammered Sam was too much of a risk. Spencer's selfishness won through. And why the hell shouldn't it? Floyd was his. He had been his for a long time. Long before Sam showed up and stirred the pot. The major disappointment on Spencer's behalf was that once Floyd had wrapped his arms around him and once he had pushed back onto Floyd and the fingers hand massaged his chest and shoulders… Floyd actually did something very rare and fell asleep. The joy of having Floyd still there in the morning was dull and empty as the man he thought he'd won off Sam was snoring lightly and breathing heavy sleepy breaths over the back of his neck.

Today they were going to move into their new house… Spencer would rather be packing up and going to Vegas but as that was out of the question – for now – he lay on the bed and listened to that steady heavy breathing and actually found it annoying. He wanted to get up and use the bathroom and have a coffee, a smoke, a walk in the morning air, but dare he move from Floyd? Carefully he slid out from the sleepy embrace and put the kettle on before going to the bathroom where Sam also was still sleeping fully clothed in the empty bathtub. Spencer did what he came into the bathroom for and stood for a short while just looking at Sam and wishing that things were different and that they could truly all get along and it wasn't all about goal scoring and who could get the most attention from the man they both wanted so much. Sure he liked what he was looking at, but he liked what was sleeping out there on the bed so much more that there was hardly a comparison – even if he'd not got what he'd hoped for the night before. Spencer had a quick shave and left the room.

Floyd was awake and sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands and so Spencer sat down next to him and put a possessive and protective arm around his shoulders. He half expected Floyd to push him away and be annoyed, but he didn't. He didn't particularly accept the embrace either, but not being pushed away was a good start to the day. Spencer thought that Floyd would burst out into a lecture or whine about something but he sat in silence and Floyd's silence bothered Spencer more than a lecture or a slapping.

'You seem troubled.' He finally asked Floyd.

Floyd gave a small shrug and pulled his head out of his hands and turned to look at Spencer. 'I was hoping, foolishly, for your co-operation on this.'

Spencer gave a frown and nodded. 'You were right to hope that. Of course you have my co-operation. Why wouldn't you?'

A shake of the head this time and Floyd pushed Spencer's arm off his shoulder and stood. 'This is a task which to me is important. I don't feel that same urge within you. Actually I feel that you have great reluctance. You've shown no interest in the house. Yes we went shopping for things but real interest? No. I spent a week looking over the paperwork, sorting things out so that they'd be perfect for you… you more than for me or for Sam… and you spent that week frolicking around with Sammy-boy. That gives me the impression that you don't give a shit. To be honest I wonder why I even started this. I thought it would be fun. It was a gamble. It's not paying off is it?'

Now Spencer stood too and grabbed Floyd by the shoulders as though to shake him and make his brain start forming proper thoughts and not this self pitying blather which was coming out of his mouth. 'You gave no indication that you _wanted_ my input. When have you ever asked my opinion on matters like where we live? You take total charge and control over it. How was I meant to know that you wanted my opinion? Sometimes, Floyd you make me feel like I'm battering my head against a brick wall! I thought you wanted space to sort things. Why not ask if you needed input?'

Floyd swung around, breaking physical contact between them. 'Pack your bags and wake Sam up.' He moved towards his own bags and began stuffing his clothing in. 'I'm not your father.' Floyd snapped. 'Wrong choice of words… I mean I'm not your parent. I shouldn't have to reprimand you for transgressions. I shouldn't have to keep my eye on you. I should trust you not to run off with the first fag you see when my back is turned. I have devoted years of my life to you. Guiding you, protecting you, helping you… keeping you from dangers when I can. I've nursed you, wiped your arse and got you anything you wanted. Now show a bit of fucking interest in what's going on. Sam… Sam… Sam is a fickle creature who cannot form real bonds and attachments. He will run to anyone who smiles at him and hands out the candy he's after. He's disloyal and untrustworthy. He's got the manners of a pig and the needs of toddler. Leave him alone.'

Oh, Spencer was cross now. Spencer could feel his face was glowing with the flow of blood rising to his brain. 'You have devoted twenty years out of an eternity to me. You've lied to me, hurt me, twisted me… given me everything I shouldn't have. I've devoted most of my life back in return. I've always been here for you when you call. I've never wandered away from you if you want me near you. Yes I might have… I might have had fun in other places when you're not around but in return I've covered up for you. I've lied to my friends for you. I've washed the blood off your clothes and asked no questions. I've given my self to you totally and fully. I accepted your bond… all you need do is ask and I'll hand my life over to you and you damned well _know_ that. You know! How can you stand there and say that I don't appreciate what you've done! I couldn't have coped with my life without you being there and I know that and I and so grateful for that that I don't have words to express that. This house though… it worries me. I'm not excited about it. I'm not looking forwards to moving in there. It's where some really nasty things happened because someone tried to summon something. You really think I'm happy about moving in there and making that place my home?'

'Well you could have fucking well said, but you'd rather play your stroking games with Sam. Teasing the creature and one day you'll take him beyond his barriers of resistance and he'll take you like the animal he is, biting you on the back of the neck to placate you. Don't mistake my sanguine appearance as of late as anything other than total sanguinary. You have angered me Spencer. You try to make a fool out of me. Well if you no longer want to be here with me then go, but you will leave the dog with me. He is not yours to mess with unless I have given you leave.'

Spencer threw down the bag he was holding and then kicked it towards the door. 'This conversation would have been more useful at the beginning of the week. Maybe when I was talking to the police and trying to get Sam out of the trouble he'd caused. No you're not my parent thank god, and you are not Sam's either as it happens, so you can stop with the lectures and the fatherly advice. I don't need or want your expert reasoning. What more do you want from me but everything! I can't give you more than my whole self and that's yours and you know that and it has been long before Sam came into the picture. This new house might be rising your blood and making you feel ready for a fight, but it doesn't do the same for me I'm afraid. I'd rather not go there. I'd sooner be somewhere else and if you can't see that then you're blind and arrogant. I have put up with far more than any man would put up with… you don't treat me like you love me. You don't tell me that you love me unless you're shouting it in anger. You never hold me and just love me for the sake of loving me. But I'm the fool, because I'm still here. Still! Still here trying to get it through your arrogant thick skin that it is you I want. You… not Sam… not some whore I might pick up because I'm feeling frustrated and lonely, but you. Only you. It's always been only you. It will never be someone else.'

'OK.' Floyd picked up his bag. 'Go wake Sam.'

'OK?' Spencer fumed at Floyd. 'OK? Is that all you can say? You know I'm right! You know!'

'Aren't you always?' Floyd placed his bag next to Spencer's but for now kept his back to him. 'Go and wake Sam.'

'No. I want a proper response to my accusations.' Spencer moved in behind Floyd, placing his hands around Floyd and on his hips. There was no attempt from Floyd to pull away, but he slowly turned and looked at Spencer's red flushed angry face.

'I love you when you're angry.' He kissed Spencer gently on the lips. 'You look so beautiful. Your lips seem to glow and that extra sparkle in your eyes…'

'You wound me up to make me angry?' Spencer now wanted to pull away and start shouting again, but Floyd had a hold of him by the belt.

He spoke softly to Spencer. 'No. I meant every word I said, but that doesn't change the fact that you are at your most beautiful when you're either screaming in terror or angry. I'm not shouting at you now. I'm calm. Everything is calm and I _do_ love you. This will never be the ideal relationship, but I think that you could have had that with Hotchner if you'd tried. You don't want that though. You don't want peace and security because you thrive off the heat and the anger and the fear – the adrenaline rush.'

Spencer nodded slowly. 'I might take up hang gliding or free falling. It's got to be less dangerous.'

'Aya… now please go wake up Sam and tell him that our new adventure is about to start and Spencer, I'll make sure that nothing gets you. No monsters under the bed or in the cupboard, but you must be at least slightly curious and excited.'

o-o-o

There was no mistaking that when Floyd put his mind to something that he did it with perfection. At least that was Floyd's opinion. The house was absolutely gorgeous. The floors highly polished wood reflected the light beaming through the windows. It was light and airy and any fear that Spencer had that it would feel oppressive and cold and demonic was unwarranted. It really was quite remarkable. They dropped their bags in the hallway with the stairs leading up in front of them and Floyd placed a hand on Sam's shoulder. 'I've fitted you up with your own place. There's a lounge area for you and even somewhere to cook.' He pressed Sam forwards slightly towards the stairs.

'Seriously? All for me? I'll never have to come down for anything if I don't want to?' The joy in Sam's voice sounded false to Spencer, but Floyd didn't seem to sense anything wrong.

'Exactly. Bring your buddies home and you can disappear up there.' Floyd was smiling slightly. He thought he'd been indulgent… He thought that it was what every young lad would want.

'My buddies.' Sam nodded and started to walk away towards the large open lounge. 'I don't have any fucking buddies! I'm not allowed to have friends or go to college or do fuck all unless I'm told I can. And as you've not told me I can, well look… buddy free me.'

'Give it time.' Floyd's voice now showed a small amount of frustration and annoyance.'

'So you can lock me away and never have to look at me again? Fuck you! I'm going to live down here with you two and if you don't like that then _you_ can lock yourself away upstairs and I'll stay here and watch porn with Spencer.'

Spencer went to the kitchen to check out if there was a machine to make coffee, finding that there was, he started brewing and left Floyd to try to placate Sam who was having a wild shouting session about always being the one left out and always being the one pushed to the side and ignored. He wailed on about how lonely he was and how he only let Spencer touch him because he was suffering from some kind of dehydration of his emotions and needed a human touch occasionally. He moaned about having to be upstairs on his own – in the dark – with the monsters. He told Floyd that he was actually too scared to be up there alone and didn't trust Floyd not to have set some kind of demonic trap to get him and so prevent Floyd and Spencer from getting hurt. The complaints stopped when Spencer walked back through with coffee in three mugs which he placed carefully on the coasters all ready laid out on the table.

'Maybe we should all sit, relax and watch a movie.' Spencer suggested trying to smile and ease the feeling in the room. 'Sam, I'm sure that you don't have to stay upstairs alone if you don't want to, does he? It's just so if you bring someone home you have your own private space.' He patted the couch to encourage both of them to sit. 'I'd like to spend the night with both of you. I've been told I don't voice my opinion and so I am. Tonight that would be nice.'

'And other nights I can bring a whore home… or I can be the whore and you can be my…'

'Sit… you're my doxy. You know. And I do mean that I a good way. Spence here is my wife and you're my bit on the side… which I will share occasionally if Spencer asks nicely…'

'I'm asking nicely.' Spencer pointed out… '… I'm asking if we can spend the night, the three of us, no fighting, no accusations… maybe even sleeping and relaxing. No incriminations and no one left out. First night here should be special. Shall we make it so?'

Sam sighed. 'I'm being whored out to Spencer again. Such is life. I guess I'll have to put up with it, but my price is going to increase with every session. I used to get a good price.'

'You used to be free.' Floyd pointed out. 'You nasty little boy, but I agree with Spencer. Tonight we shall christen the bed in the master bedroom and before that we can watch movies, porn or something else…'

'Anything but horror.' Sam stated.

'OK… well choose whatever you want… if we can agree on something we will watch it, drink coffee… relax. I will cook dinner later and Spencer will never touch the coffee machine again. Sammy… whilst it's light outside and the day is warm and bright, please take a quick gander at what I got you for your own area.' Floyd gave Sam a pleading look.


	8. Chapter 8

8

They let the night draw in around them as they snuggled together on the couch. Floyd sat in the middle with his arms securely around his boys' shoulders as they leaned in and rested tired and stressed bodies against each other.

Would it suddenly kick off that night? Would something come to get them and try to tear them apart? Would they get at least one night of pure lovely sleep before everything closed in and happened?

Sam admitted that the area upstairs was pretty damned awesome. He sulked slightly at the thought that it would never be used. He'd never bring back a bit of skirt or a hulking muscle bound man… not that he couldn't find such to bring home, but more that he'd not want to show Floyd that he appreciated what he'd provided him with. Anyway, he liked the shower in Spencer and Floyd's room better. It was a wet room with showerheads coming off the wall… and the hot water drummed against you hard and gloriously.

Stage two, after the coffee and movie had involved testing the shower. Both Sam and Spencer attempted to persuade Floyd to join them, but he didn't want to strip off. He wasn't feeling that secure. He was perfectly happy to stand and watch though, leaning on the wet room door smiling at his boys under their separate bit of water, washing, relaxing… looking like they wanted to be fucked. Sweet… very sweet. He'd wait until they were sleeping and watch it all again on the cameras he'd installed.

He'd had cameras installed virtually everywhere and he fully intended to spend his time as they slept to go through everything and make sure neither of them were playing games he didn't like the look of. Not that they'd had much of a chance. Tonight would simply be to see if the cameras in the shower worked. Floyd hoped so.

As Spencer and Sam slept… and yes, Floyd made sure that _sleeping_ was all that they were doing, he snuck away to the small office and checked on security footage. It was the sensible thing to do. There really was no point in having all of this set up if it didn't work, but he was perfectly able to watch the boys sleeping and check on the shower footage at the same time. Floyd was able to multitask really well in situations like this.

The wind blew down the chimneys and howled through the trees. The windows rattled. The doors creaked. The floorboards also creaked in places and Floyd could sit there in his small office which looked so unassuming that no one would suspect that he had cameras in every room in the house… and he would be able to tell by the creaking and other noises who was walking through the house.

Night cameras. They made the world a greenish black but he could see his boys laying sleeping. Arms draped over each other in their innocent dreams. At least they had _better_ be innocent. The infra red cameras worked well too. He checked the rooms. He looked for hot spots and cool places… he searched the rooms via the cameras and saw nothing to alarm him at all. This was at least a good start. The boys might object or be alarmed at the extra security Floyd had in place, but he was sure that they'd understand. Very sure of it.

They ate breakfast in the big kitchen. Floyd cooked, Sam made coffee… Spencer had been barred from touching anything to do with drink or food in the kitchen until he'd been to school to at least learn the basics. Sam got over excited when the horse trailers arrived. Floyd had spoken once about the prospect of getting horses, but it had never been discussed fully. It seemed that Floyd hadn't bothered asking. He wanted horses out in the back field… he _had_ them. Sam loved it. Sam thought it was the most wonderful idea since the beginning of time. He spoke rapidly of his plans to teach them circus tricks. He spoke of his wondrous ability to stand on the back of a galloping horse. He grabbed at Floyd's arm and begged him to get him a tutu in striking reds and blacks… 'Oh it's going to be fucking awesome!' Sam sighed in happiness.

The joy of the horses didn't last long. Spencer could see that it wouldn't last long. He'd looked at the piles of tack, buckets, blankets and everything else a horse might need being hauled to the rear of the house to where there was a small barn. Spencer watched the stuff being moved in and saw the way Floyd was speaking to Sam… then the explosion… which was so loud that Spencer thought that the windows were going to fall out of the frames. Sam had been handed over the duty of caring for the horses.

'I'm _not_ doing it!' A bit of paper which had been placed in Sam's hand was torn to little squares and hurled into Floyd's face. 'Get a boy in to do it. Hire someone. Get a stable boy! You gotta love the stable boys with their sweet smelling hair! You mother fucker! You bastard! It's all a trick. It's all a damned trick to make me forget what I'd forgotten and you made me remember and I'm _not_ happy about it.'

Spencer saw that Floyd said something back, but didn't catch what it was.

'Get out! No! Never. It's just not fair. Why did you have to spoil it all by saying that? Why can't we just have fun? Why do you hate me?' Sam didn't wait for an answer but stormed off in the direction of the road, kicking out at the tyre of one of the trailers as he went.

Spencer walked slowly over to Floyd who was plucking bits of paper off his face and out of his hair. He didn't look cross. He looked very amused by the outburst. Spencer stood at the fence with Floyd and grabbed his hand, squeezing his fingers. 'What was Sam's tantrum about?'

'He's a problem with my past, even if there was nothing to it. I had a fancy once and that fancy worked in the stables. He thinks every time hay is mentioned that it's to wind him up. Though why would it?'

Spencer knew the basic outline of this story and it had slipped his mind as being something which would still effect Sam. He looked over his shoulder and watched Sam walk out of open gate way and turn towards the town. 'You should go and talk to him. Persuade him somehow that you didn't mean to hurt his feelings.'

'He doesn't have feelings. How can I possibly hurt them?' Floyd squeezed Spencer's hand in return. 'I thought you'd look good on that lovely chestnut.'

'Did you? Sam was saying that you need to get someone in to care for the horses.'

The hand stopped squeezing. Why was everyone so against every small plan he made? 'There are three able bodied males living here and you think we need to employ someone? Six old nags is all. It's not a fucking herd of them. How the fuck long does it take to…Oh fucking forget it.' Floyd turned from Spencer and called over one of the guys who had been unloading the horses. 'Change of plan mate. My wife here is objecting and my doxy had gone off in a temper. Maybe you can just take them back again? Of course I'll still pay for them, but if the family aren't happy then I'm not happy.' He didn't wait for a reply. He left the man standing around holding boxes and horses and walked away leaving Spencer to deal with the rest of it. Honestly they were impossible to keep happy. Floyd was just glad he'd changed his mind about the chickens. How they would react to the arrival of pigs he wasn't sure. Maybe that had to be cancelled too.

He walked out the way Sam had gone and found him sitting on the grass verge looking like the world had ended staring at his sneakers which he'd drawn on with a marker pen. There were a few things Floyd could do now… He decided to give Sam the change and go and tell him what his options were.

Sam looked up at Floyd with hate and disgust on his face and Floyd ignored that and sat on the grass with him. He slung a comfortable arm over Sam's slumped shoulders and spoke quietly directly into his ear, brushing his lips over that sweet pink ear as he did so. 'I'm sending the horses back. If you can't be bothered to look after what I give you, then I take it away again. Before you start raging at me again, listen. I'm not happy with you. I don't think it's healthy for someone of your age to have nothing in his life to keep him occupied. I can remedy that easily. I can beat you to a bloody mess of the blacktop there and have you be less bored in a hospital for a while. I can kill you here and leave you to rot in the ditch. I can tell you that if you continue to behave like a spoilt brat that I'll take a knife to that pretty face of yours and mar you for the rest of you little demonic life.'

'Fuck you.' Sam muttered, but he didn't try to get away.

'That's not work. That's a hobby. You need to work or study. I'll not have you sitting around the house expecting everyone else to pick up after you and provide for you. I'll not always be here… one day you're going to have to deal with life alone.'

'Fuck off.' Sam Said and this time tried to pull away. 'I've said I'd go to college. I've said. I'm _not_ going to be a constant reminder of someone who shot me in the back and fed me to desert dogs. I'll go without a horse rather than have to suffer you sniffing my hair and looking at your moping face.'

Floyd moved his arm away from Sam and stood again. 'Come back in when you're ready. Come back in with a smile on your face. I demand that you are happy. That's not so much to ask is it? Be happy or feel my annoyance.'

'Give me some money.' Sam snapped. 'I want to go into town and I can't even buy a coffee if you don't give me my subs. I played your game in the shower yesterday. I could feel you watching even when you'd gone. Spencer doesn't have a fucking clue. You've smacked him in the head too much and now you've got an idiot, brainless sheep.' Sam paused and looked up at Floyd. 'Recent surveys… I read… people who participate in bestiality are more likely to get cock cancer. You better get checked out.' Sam now stood and put his hand out. 'You demand my happiness? You demand that I'm nice and don't spoil your dirty little games? Then I demand payment. Pay up or I make a big old noise that will deafen poor Spencer.'

So Floyd lightened his wallet by twenty bucks and watched an angry Sam walk off down the road. There _was_ temptation to go after him, drag him down to the road by his hair and smack him until he stopped living, but then he had Spencer to keep in line too and Spencer would start asking questions if he came home without Sam, but blood splattered. He turned away from Sam and walked back to the house where the horses were re-loaded into the trailers and the other things which had been delivered were being packed away. Spencer was talking quietly to a man in a checked shirt, but it was just business they were discussing. He'd leave Spence to sort it out. Floyd needed a strong drink and some space from these guys who just seemed to fight against anything he did to make them happy. Would Spencer be happier without Sam? That was a thought, but maybe he was just over reacting to Sam's threats. How dare the little bastard threaten to ruin everything! It was a drink of whiskey Floyd took and he walked to the porch at the side of the house and sat there with a mesh screen ruining the view but keeping the insects at bay. 'Fucking blood suckers.' Floyd moaned and gulped back his drink.

Spencer tried to keep the peace with the people with the horses. They'd initially insisted that they couldn't take the animals back. Spencer had to calmly explain a few things.

'Mr Flanders gets over enthusiastic about things and doesn't think the whole thing through. None of us have ever owned a horse before and though Sam might say he can ride I'm not convinced that he knows how to care for a horse. I have no idea. I can't even ride. Mr Flanders has made a mistake. If the animals are left here they will be neglected. Please return them.'

'Can't.' The big guy said.

'Please make a phone call and see if it's possible.' Spencer asked. He tried to keep his voice down. He didn't want to make a bigger scene than there was already.

'Fine… fine. I'll make a call. Can't promise you anything.'

They guy was giving Spencer that look he'd received so many times in the past. This was the sort of person who thought that homosexuality was catching. Spencer was tempted to cough in the man's face or run a finger down his arm to see how fast he could run, but instead he moved back and gave the man some room. He turned to look at the sound of traffic making its way down the road, but the barn took up his view and he couldn't see what it was. It was a blast of ugly noise in the quiet though. All ready in this short time Spencer was beginning to like the silence and the peace. He didn't think that he'd like it out here at night… alone… or with Floyd… but during the daylight this place was nice. Had it not been for the murders then Spencer would have thought Floyd had chosen well.

'OK… we can take them back, but you'll have to pay for the extra costs.' The man confirmed at Spencer's back.

Spencer turned around and nodded. 'I can pay you now or you can send a bill. Which is easiest?'

The man gave Spencer that look again and shook his head. 'You'll be billed, I guess.'

A soft smile from Spencer who agreed to this without even bothering to find out how much it was going to cost. It wasn't his problem and he doubted that they were going to be alive when the bill got here. 'I'll be in the house if you need anything. Please, just carry on.' Spencer walked away around the side of the house and found Floyd sitting in a rocker on the porch staring out over the grass and into the woodlands beyond.

Spencer didn't quite know what to do with himself for the remainder of that first full day there. He could relax and enjoy the freedom, but relaxing wasn't coming easily to him. Sam had gone into town, Floyd was on edge and an edgy Floyd wasn't something anyone who knew him could relax around. He was barred from the kitchen so when hunger struck at around two in the afternoon he was forced to ask Floyd if it was possible to make something. Obviously it wasn't. Spencer was going to have to wait. Spencer asked if he could just warm something up in the microwave and was told to wait. Floyd wasn't in the mood for Spencer and his fussing around. The air smelt wrong. The air felt thick… it was sliding down Floyd's throat and sludging in his guts making him feel woozy and sick.

'Where the fuck is Sam?' Floyd finally asked when the large clock in the lounge showed five in the afternoon. 'I was going to get him a small bike. Not today, but at some point I was. I think I'll forget that bloody offer if he can't get his arse in here soon.' Floyd slapped away comforting hands which ran down his arm. 'I'm not in the mood, Spencer. Can't you feel that? Can't you sense it?'

'I think I have problems reading your mood. You're never in the mood any more.' He was about to turn away from Floyd and find a book to read, but a hand grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him around again.

'I wasn't talking of _my_ mood.' He spoke as though talking to a child. 'I meant the house. The atmosphere in the house. The thickness. The heaviness. I need Sam here. If something is going to kick off I want the boy where I can see him.' A push now in Spencer's chest. That was all Floyd was going to say on the subject.

Sam looked towards the front door and then back to Floyd. 'I can go look for him?'

Floyd shook his head. 'And you think to leave me here alone?'

'Then we can both go?'

'And make it look to Sam as though I care?'

Spencer wanted to slap some sense into this stubborn man. 'You _do_ care. Why are you so against showing it? I've come to terms with it… I came to terms with it a long time ago. Why don't you want Sam to be happy? Why are you going out of your way to make him so miserable?'

'I'm not. It's not that. It's just…' Floyd held up his hands in exasperation. 'The closer I get to him the more I'm going to miss him. I throw things at him… maybe so that when it comes I'll be prepared.'

And Spencer didn't much like the sound of this declaration. It wasn't what he'd expected. 'What have you done?' Spencer hissed at Floyd. 'What have you done to Sam? What are you planning to do to him? What the hell is really going on here? Why are we here? What are you expecting to happen?'

Floyd didn't answer. He walked into the kitchen and threw the switch on the cooker and began chopping vegetables.

'I'll go and see if I can see him walking back, shall I?'

'Sure.' Smack, smack, smack with the knife, slicing and hacking, sending bits of vegetable flying around the kitchen. That glint of knife made Spencer's skin crawl. The way Floyd was showing no interest in anything was making his hackles rise. The way Floyd was not looking at him in the eye when he spoke made his adrenaline pump and his face grow hot.

'Floyd… have you done something to Sam?'

The cracking smack of the knife carried on. Spencer was sure that if he closed his eyes he could easily replace the image of Floyd and the cabbage with one of Floyd plunging that knife into Sam.

'Floyd!' Spencer shouted this time. 'What the hell is going on with you? Where is Sam?'

The knife wavered in Floyd's hand and then was smacked point first into the work surface. It made a horrible _thwang_ sort of noise as the blade firstly bent and bowed and then snapped off at the handle as the polished marble work surface resisted. Floyd's hand carried on down, slicing the side and palm of his hand on the blade, turning the pale green vegetable a gruesome red. Still Floyd remained silent and now Spencer was stunned into taking long gulping breaths. He stepped towards Floyd was stood now with the palm of both hands pressed onto the work surface. One of his hands had a sharp four inch bit of metal protruding from his hand half way between his wrist and little finger.

'This.' Floyd pulled his hand off the remains of the blade. It made a soft squishing sound which made Spencer's stomach turn and his face burn even hotter. 'This is nothing compared to what I'll do to you if you carry on.'

Spencer stood mid stride with his mouth slightly open and his eyes wide with shock. 'Carry on? What? I don't understand.' Though Spencer was sure that he knew. Floyd didn't like that he was getting so close to figuring out the reason for Floyd's dull enthusiasm for anything.

Floyd pressed his hand down again onto the work surface and Spencer watched the blood ooze from under his hand and over the shiny black marble. 'You're continual mistrust. I trusted you. I expect it to be reciprocated, though I'm thinking that you'll never believe a word I tell you. I've done nothing to Sam. I gave him twenty bucks and he walked into town. Now if that's a crime then I'm fucking sorry!'

'I just asked!' Spencer walked in closer to Floyd and handed over a tea towel to wrap around his hand. 'Can I see what you've done?' It was Floyd's right hand, but Floyd seemed to swap leading hands depending of mood and mission. Spencer wasn't too worried that this was his right hand. Actually Spencer was very aware that the first fist strike from Floyd always came from the left and that might have surprised him at first and it might put other people off, but it didn't surprise Spencer any more.

Floyd looked down at the blood soaking through the white cotton tea towel but didn't move his hand just yet. 'You shouldn't have to ask.' He snarled at Spencer. 'Dinner will be late. Go fuck off and play with yourself or something.' Floyd looked at Spencer's hand wavering over Floyd's bloody mess and shook his head at him. 'Want me to see how sharp that still is?' Spencer backed off. 'Go play! Turn on the television. Read some more books… don't leave the house and never question me on something like that again. Dinner might be late.'

'Floyd…'

There was no point in talking to him though. Spencer could see that expression on his face. He'd closed down. Turned off… done whatever it was Floyd did when he'd had enough of something. His body might still be standing there in the kitchen but his consciousness seemed to be elsewhere. He moved away slowly but didn't let Floyd out of his sight. This was one of those situations which could go either way. Floyd could pull back to where he'd gone and forget it had happened, or he could return needing to eat someone alive. Spencer had no way of telling how this was going to turn out. He sat on the large comfortable couch and clicked the remote on the TV and after turning the sound down low he sat and watched a virtual looping news report on something about beached whales somewhere in a country Spencer wasn't sure of. About ten minutes later the sounds of Floyd cooking dinner resumed in the kitchen as though someone had flipped his _on_ switch back on now that he'd calmed down enough not to slice his own head off.

And Sam still hadn't returned home.

And as far as Spencer was aware, Floyd was the last person to talk to him. And that gave him that suspicion once again that Floyd had done something. The small temptation to go and look for him drifted as he looked over at Floyd and saw him staring right back… those dark unblinking eyes seemed to tear right down into Spencer's soul. It actually physically hurt to keep looking at Floyd. It made his heart shudder and leap and sweat appear on his top lip and the palm of his hands. Spencer genuinely did think that Floyd was the most beautiful man who had ever existed, but when Floyd looked at him the way he was now… Spencer was equally convinced that with a slight nod of the head, that Floyd could strike him dead. Spencer froze… he could feel sweat running down the side of his face and his bladder was suddenly too full. He had to move. He had to blink. He felt like he'd been nailed here in position.

'Half seven and no sign of Sam yet.' Floyd mumbled. 'Call the cops. They might have picked him up again.'

That was it. Floyd now looked away and that terrifying power Floyd had just exuded was gone. Was it just that? Just a show of power? Spencer didn't know, but there was now a small of trying garlic and onion and Spencer had gone without lunch, now those smells were making his mouth water.

o-o-o

Sam had spent most of his day hanging out with a group of lads in their vans and on the back of their bikes. They seemed like a nice bunch and had picked Sam up on the way into town. He'd ridden on the back of Fabio's bike and had held on tightly much to the amusement of the others.

'Way to go Fabio!' His friends hooted and called and Sam felt great. He was with people, the bulk of whom were his own sort of age, a few older, but none younger. They pulled up in a field and they lolled around on the ground and they popped open cans of drink and they smoked and shared the smoke. Sam had made friends! He was even going to tell them of his fantastic pad back home and invite them back. That would show Floyd. That would teach him to talk to him the way he had. He _could_ make friends.

He changed his mind about the invite when Fabio started pushing Sam around. He shoved him in the side with his elbow and everyone laughed at Sam's expense when he fell off the tree stump he was sitting on. Very quickly the situation Sam was in turned from friendly to one that Sam wished he could just pick himself up out of and walk away… but there were too many of them and now the wind had picked up and dark clouds scudded across the sky and they held a squirming Sam down on the ground and pulled off his sneakers. An expensive make… they were thrown from one lad to the next until they arrived at someone who they fitted. Sam howled out for them to stop. He said that he thought they were friends. He begged them to stop what they were doing, but he still felt them roll him onto his front. He felt them pulled his Tshirt off and he screamed until someone smacked him on the back of the head with something and shut him up.

They dragged him around. Shared him as they'd shared their drink and smokes which they now got enjoyment out of by stubbing them out on Sam's tightly formed tummy. They hauled him with his jeans around his ankles to a ditch and dropped him into the bottom where rain water had once collected and now wild flowers shot up and nettles buzzed with insects. The lads had their fun, packed up their things and they walked back to their vehicles. Fabio hooted with delight and Simone showed of his new sneakers… great fun. They left the area taking the route they'd come in by, avoiding the town totally.

At eight in the evening Spencer heard the sound of vehicles out on the blacktop. They passed fast. In a hurry. Not like the ones which had passed earlier in the day. Those ones had been lazy and had almost dreamy sound to them.

Sam lay in the ditch with his head to the side and mud seeping into his mouth. He didn't blink. Warm liquid ran down the side of his face. He'd bitten his tongue. Something very hard and uncomfortable had been rammed up his backside. He didn't seem to be able to blink even though his eyes hurt and he could feel something scratching at them. He thought maybe one of his shoulders was dislocated and his ribs hurt. What hurt most of all was that he was alone. He thought he'd made friends and they'd turned on him so fast and with such fury that the only thing Sam could think of was that this was punishment from his personal gods and demons to teach him to remember that he'll always be trash and nothing more. He didn't cry and he didn't move, but the light slowly faded and he thought that this was going to be his last night on earth and it was really not so bad.

o-o-o

Spencer reported Sam missing at nine that evening. He'd eaten his dinner and now the pair of them sat looking at the silenced TV screen and listening to the rain hammering on the windows. It was a light summer rain. Refreshing. Floyd had a bandage around one hand and the other was resting on Spencer's leg.

'He'll come home now it's raining.' Spencer remarked. He was worried. At first he'd been annoyed, but that had turned to worry.

'Sure.' Floyd commented. There was no worry in Floyd's voice. It was as though he already knew that Sam wasn't coming home. He'd known for a long time that Sam wasn't going to be walking in the door with a spring in his step and a place at college. 'If you say so.' He muttered.

Spencer sighed and spoke with gentle calm he wasn't feeling. 'Something has happened to him.'

'For sure.' Floyd muttered. 'I felt it. I felt it a few hours back.'

Spencer looked at Floyd's hand and then up at Floyd's lovely profile. 'What did you feel?'

'Pain.' Floyd breathed the word out. 'He'll be OK. Tomorrow… the day after maybe.' Floyd now turned to look at Spencer. 'Can you smell that?'

Spencer could only smell Floyd's breath which was a quite strong onion and garlic scent and so he shook his head. 'What can you smell?'

'Crushed grass. The bent stems of flowers. Blood. I can smell the sweet mix of bruised roses and broken flesh. The stench of mud – black, dark… full of rotting creatures, plants… flies buzzing, insects sucking on his blood. I can feel what they've done to him and I can feel Sam's… shame… I think it's shame… disappointment… stupidity. Maybe it will cause him to be more guarded. His need for love and friendship is hollow and pointless. It's dangerous. Maybe he's been shown that.'

'He's been beaten and left somewhere?'

'Yup.' Floyd now stood, took the remote control and turned the TV off. 'I need you.' He told Spencer, grasping him by the hair and hauling him to his feet. 'In the bedroom. Now.'

'But…' He was going to say that he didn't feel all that loved up thinking that Sam was out there somewhere hurt, but Floyd wasn't really giving Spencer a choice. Spencer might not be feeling hot with lust, but Floyd certainly was. And hadn't Spencer been complaining and bitching about Floyd's lack of affection earlier? Well he'd better keep his mouth shut or he might have bigger things to be complaining about. He wriggled as he always did when Floyd threw him onto the bed. He resisted just enough to get Floyd hot and bothered. He yelped and slapped gently at Floyd and accepted the love Floyd gave him. He felt that tongue which explored every possible part of him, inside and out. He felt those fingers doing the same and the hot hard kisses which crushed his lips and made him bleed… and Spencer forgot all about Sam… he forgot all about those fingers which touched him when he was much to young. He forgot everything except for his own pleasure and the feeling of being taken by Floyd until his own blood lubricated him.

He fell asleep with Floyd wrapped around him, keeping him safe and close. When he awoke in the early hours of the morning, Floyd was gone and rain dripped off the trees outside in long big splats. He got up, took a quick shower and then went out to find Floyd who was laying on the floor in the lounge staring at the ceiling. Spencer stood looking at him for a while. He was laying flat on his back with his arms at his sides as though he'd been poleaxed. 'Floyd?' Floyd lifted a hand and waved it at Spencer.

'I've made coffee. Sam's not back. Can you call the cops again?'

Spencer knelt down next to Floyd and brushed his fingers over Floyd's face. 'You're worried about him.' He told Floyd. 'It's OK to admit that you're worried.'

Floyd gave the slightest of nods. 'I'm worried. He's in pain. You have no idea what it feels like to sense the pain of someone and not be able to draw it to yourself. I tried, but it's not working. I don't know if it's this place or where Sam is or _what_ Sam is. I don't know and I can't home in on where he is either. He's not close.' Floyd stopped and coughed and rolled onto his side. 'He's maybe drowning.'

'Water? A river?' Spencer walked in a frantic circle.

'No. it's slow. It's painfully slow. A ditch, the side of the road… something like that. I can smell the grass, the plants… he's in the open.'

Spencer snatched up the telephone. He of course couldn't tell the cops that Floyd thought Sam was laying dying somewhere in the grass. But he could tell them that he still wasn't home and he wanted, needed, them to go and look for him. His look was very high profile. His clothing was bright. You couldn't miss him! But the cops just suggested that Spencer contact all of his friends and maybe the hospitals. He's a young lad. Kids do stupid things and forget to tell people where they've gone. Spencer slammed the phone down and sighed.

It was Spencer who drove into town to check out hospitals. Floyd told him that someone needed to stay at home in case he returned. He wasn't going to just walk in the door. Spencer could tell by the look on Floyd's face. Not panic. It hadn't reached that deep into Floyd yet, but worry was etched on his face. He'd tried contacting Sam and had received a buzzing howl in reply. 'He's not dead yet.' Floyd let Spencer know, which might have brought Floyd some comfort, but didn't give any to Spencer.

'I'll call you every half hour. Please try to answer the phone.'

Floyd gave Spencer a withering glare. 'I'll answer the fucking phone. Go check the hospitals then go in to see the cops again. I'll wait here.'

Floyd was avoiding the town. Spencer knew he was and he wanted to know why he was, but now wasn't the time to start an argument. He did thank Floyd for the previous night though and then left in a hurry to try to find some sign of Sam.

He drove slowly down the road into the town. He knew that Floyd had been out there talking to him the day before and had come back alone. Was there proof that Floyd hadn't done something and would it be a shock if he found Sam's battered corpse at the side of the road? No… neither would have shocked Spencer. He was more surprised that there was no sign of him. He did as he'd been asked or rather told to do and he visited the hospital. There was no one of Sam's description there. He left a phone number in case Sam did suddenly turn up… then he went to the same police station he'd gone to before when Sam had been arrested. He spoke to the police officer behind the desk who wandered off and brought back with him a detective in a grey suit, white shirt and pale blue tie. It was the same guy Spencer had talked to when Sam had been arrested. The man took Spencer through to a small interview room and asked him exactly what was going on.

'He went out yesterday before mid-day and didn't return.' Spencer twisted his hands on his lap. 'You've met Sam. You understand why we are worried.'

'We? I only ever see you.' The man placed a folder on the table and opened it. There wasn't much inside of it, but there was mug shot of Sam. 'This I guess is still a recent image.'

Spencer nodded at it and then shrugged. 'Mr Flanders is staying at the house in case Sam comes back or phones.' He explained. 'Sam can sometimes be a little bit unstable…'

The folder was slapped shut and the cop leaned on the table with his elbows. 'Let me be frank with you Dr Reid. This young man has problems. He's sexually active, addicted to narcotics… he's an underage drinker. There's not a lot of good things going for him really is there? He's not here. If you've checked the hospitals then obviously he's not there either. You could try certain areas of the town where lads like him might hang out… but people _do_ go missing. I think you're aware of that though. People like Sam who are obviously vulnerable, obviously after something… temptation can lead to bad places. I'm just warning you.'

Spencer didn't like the sound of this. They seemed to be blaming Sam for going missing. 'He's unwell.' Spencer tried. 'He has his problems but he'd not step into danger knowingly.'

'No one ever does, but when you're a young prostitute and you want money to score your poison then you make mistakes. If he's as sick as you say he is then he needs to be supervised. Now I have your contact details. If something or someone turns up I'll let you know. In the meantime, take care and go talk to people here.' He slid a bit of paper over the table. 'And remember… this can be a dangerous place.' The man stood and left Spencer sitting there looking at a bit of paper with a street name written on it.

It felt to Spencer as though he walked for hours. His feet hurt and his back was beginning to ache. He'd made a couple of calls to Floyd and told him that so far nothing had turned up. There was no sign on Sam in the town and Spencer was doubting that Sam even came here. The bar where he'd been attacked before hadn't seen him again even though he handed out money when he asked the questions.

'If he'd been back we would have told him to go home to his daddy again.' Spencer was told.

'You might want to check out Barton Lane.' Another told Spencer. 'If the lad was after some quick cash he might have gone down that way. Depends on how well he knows the area and if he was after something heavy or not.' That was all the information he was given except for the general location of Barton Lane. Another long walk which took him in an almost circular route onto a road which looped around and went eventually back to the road Spencer had come into town by. It was going to be a long old walk back to the car, if he bothered going back for it today. Spencer thought maybe he'd not bother and would come back for it another day.

Barton Lane was part of the old town. The buildings were run down and mostly made of wood… no shiny metal and glass here. The road was in bad condition and the sidewalks were dirty… it was a rough place but busy none the less. Spencer took a deep breath and began asking people if they'd heard of Sam or seen him. He gave a description, height, colouring… eye colour… the way he was dressed and he got either suspicious looks of head shaking in reply.

'I'm looking for a friend.' Spencer said to a young man with dirty fair hair. The guy looked at Spencer and nodded.

'Fifty bucks.' He said and started to walk down a small side lane.

'No… no… wait.' Spencer walked quickly after him. 'That's not what I meant. My friend has…' Then he stopped and his stomach lurched. He looked at the face of this young man and then down at his sneakers and back up to his face again. 'My mistake.' Spencer stepped back, but a hand was already on his shoulder.

'No mistake… you're looking for Sam?' A voice snapped in his ear.

Spencer stared straight ahead at the Sam's sneakers on the young man's feet. He remembered clearly how he'd been so exasperated when Sam drew silly pictures all over the expensive footwear. He'd not mistake them. He'd never forget them… and they were on the wrong feet. 'I expect he's home. Sorry to disturb you.' He tried to sidle out of where he was being held but the hand on his shoulder tightened.

'A warning friend… Go home and forget you ever came here. If I or any of us see your face again then you'll end up in a world of pain. Go home and keep you mouth shut. I'll know if you've talked to the cops. I find out everything.' Spencer was shoved forwards and he turned to see who this person was. A tall Hispanic lad stood there glaring at Spencer. 'Go home.' He told Spencer again.

Spencer licked at his lips and his hand automatically twitched to where he'd have carried a gun once. 'If you know where Sam is…' He started…

They didn't give him the same treatment they gave Sam. Spencer was not stripped off and abused, but a knife was slashed across his face, his teeth where knocked loose in his mouth, his neck cracked backwards and his head smashed on the hard floor… and they dragged him away, put him in the back of a van and for now… just for a while… they kept him as they talked about what they were going to do with him.

Floyd sat next to the telephone. An hour passed and Spencer hadn't called.

Two hours passed.

Floyd reluctantly picked up the phone and called the cops.


	9. Chapter 9

9

'How both of them can go missing in less than twenty-four hours I dunno.' Floyd was sitting in the interview room at the police station with one of Sam's caps on pulled down low. He was wearing grubby, baggy dark jeans and one of Spencer's Tshirts with a faded logo on the front. He had called the station and they had asked him to come down and they'd have words. Words which didn't seem to be all that centred around his boys.

'You look familiar.' The detective told Floyd.

'I've got one of those faces.' Floyd answered.

'What sort of face is that? It's hard to see when you're looking down at your lap the whole time.'

Floyd raised an eyebrow at the bastard then looked back down again. 'One of those faces which people think they've seen before when they've not.'

The detective sighed. 'Yet I know you from somewhere. The way you walk, the way you stand… the way you talk… where do I know you from?'

Floyd glanced up again at the man and ground his teeth. He then moved his hand upwards and knocked the cap off his head. 'Thought you were going to break out into song there, but I was here when the Speckson crap kicked off. Though I would have looked different then… you were a very low ranked nothing back then, but you had your eye on me and Bobby Kirk. You thought you knew everything. You were wrong. You're still wrong. Are you happy now?'

'Flanders. The man whispered. You son of a _bitch_.'

'Nice to see you again too. I would have avoided this if but for my boys going missing. I need to know where they are. I need to find them. Something has happened and I don't feel that you're taking me seriously.'

The detective stood and nodded. 'Oh we have people looking. I'm just not sure that we'll find much. You might object, but you know when people go missing that the first place they look is close to home.'

'Well I'm not hiding them in my fucking pockets! You want to waste time searching my house then go for it, but you'll need a warrant and in the mean time can you please look for them. Grass… crushed grass, but now I smell vehicle fumes, so they're not together and please stop! Stop… I know what you're going to ask and I'm not going to go through all that shit again. I have, as you know from past chats we've had, an ability to sense things.'

'Bullshit.' The detective told Floyd. 'It's easy to kill someone then pretend you've had a vision. It's not an ability it's lies.'

'It's an angelic ability given to me by those much more powerful than your boss.' Floyd snarled back at him.

'Angels again. Good. It's nice to see that you've not changed. May I ask what the hell you're doing here anyway? And why have you moved into that house when you know what happened there? Are you a crazy sick bitch like I believed you were back then?'

'Undoubtedly – it absolutely goes without question. I'm a crazy, sick bitch, but that doesn't mean that I've hurt my boys. I never hurt Bobby Kirk. He did that shit all on his own. But you… you never looked into what Bob reported to you. You never even thought to ask why he said what he said. You just sat back and took your fucking promotion and licked the appropriate arses.'

'Bobby Kirk had a history of psychological problems. _That's_ why you latched onto him. Easy to manipulate. Easy to fool. But Bobby Kirk isn't why you're here… tell me now… who the hell are you really and who are these people you claim are missing?'

'You know who the fuck I am!' Floyd shouted at the man. 'I've done nothing wrong. Absolutely fuck all wrong. Not back then and not now. So you need to stop with the shit talk and treat me with some damned respect. I'm not going to go over the story again with you. Sam, my lad is missing. He went out yesterday before lunch and never returned. He was wearing a pink Tshirt with a cartoon cat on the front. He had on black skinny jeans and a pair of sneakers he'd scrawled all over. His hair was loose and he'd not put make up on. He had twenty bucks on him which I gave him so he'd could get some lunch and a coffee, or some smokes. He was in a disappointed and foul mood, but not so much that he'd run away from home. He's vulnerable. He latches onto people if they show that they like him. He has been known to prostitute himself and he's been known to take drugs. I am his only family. Spencer, now he went out looking for Sam this morning. He came to see you, he visited the hospital and no one had seen Sam. Spencer was calling me every half hour. I stayed at home in case Sam returned. The last call I got from Spencer was three hours ago and I can sense that something has happened to him too… I sense a connection between the two events, but I don't think that they are together. I know that Spencer was going to go to Barton Lane area and speak to people. Now what I've personally done is come here and reported these two things. Sam wouldn't stay out all night. Spencer wouldn't stop calling.'

'Dr Reid. The man who came in earlier… Are you sure that he's not just picked the lad up and gone somewhere with him?'

'Absolutely.'

'How can you be so sure?'

'Because he knows that I will kill him if he does that. Honestly. He'd not do that. We trust each other.'

'You are lovers?' The detective asked.

'We are as husband and wife.' Floyd replied.

The detective smirked. 'It's always your sort that comes here and causes trouble. I had my suspicions that Bobby Kirk was a queer, but not you. Tell me how Sam fits into all of this.'

'I don't walk around with _I like it up the arse_ written on my shirt… does orientation have anything to do with this? What the hell has my sex life got to do with my boys or Bobby?' A deep sharp breath. 'Sam is my spawn.' Floyd told him. 'He is part of me. He is me. We are one and the same. Except that he's severely lacking in the common sense department and I'm over flowing with it.' Floyd pulled a smoke out of his pocket and thought the detective was shaking his head, Floyd lit up.

'This is a no smoking facility.'

'Screw you.' The detective was informed and Floyd puffed away. 'Are you looking for my boys?'

The detective waved smoke out of his face and slowly shook his head. 'If you are here… Then I think that your boys, as you call them, are probably safe. You know that. You know where they are.'

Floyd glared through the thick yellow smog. 'If I knew, I'd not have exposed myself to you…' He paused, thought about what he'd just said and wondered if he should rephrase it, but carried on. 'If I knew where they were I'd go and fucking well get them! Why are you not down at Barton Lane looking?'

'Did I say no one was looking for them?'

'Yes.' Floyd snapped. 'You think I have them hidden somewhere. You think I'm some kind of a monster. You probably think I had something to do with the Specksons and that fucking mess too. I'd not be all that shocked if you tried to blame me on the fire which gutted this town and tore the heart out of it. Really, go for it! Blame me for everything since the woolly mammoth died out!'

'What I suggest you do,' The helpful detective sighed, 'is that you go home and wait by the telephone. I'm sure that Dr Reid has just forgotten the importance of calling.'

'No he hasn't.' Floyd interrupted. 'He's not forgotten. He's unable to call. He knows that my fury will be unleashed if he fails to follow my direct orders. I cannot think why he'd risk such a thing. I will return to my home and I will attempt to zone in on my boys but sir, if they're injured because of your lack of concern because you feel they deserve what they get… I know your sort.' Floyd stood… the track of what he was saying lost in the anger inside his head. '…you think that because we have that tag _faggot_ on us that we deserve getting beaten… we deserve to be molested and abused and I'm telling you, that no one deserves it because they think differently. You might well consider that this is a life _choice_ but it's not. So get off your damned moral high horse and accept that I like men and just be comforted by the fact that I don't find you at all attractive and don't want to stick anything belonging to me inside anything belonging to you… because I know that's how you stuffed shirt arseholes think. You don't consider that we have feelings which can be hurt and damaged beyond repair because of the failure of people like you to stand up and…'

'Enough… that's enough.'

'It's far from _enough_. Very far from it. I'm sick of the attitude of the guys who are supposed to protect us. We are meant to be able to come to the cops and report abuse and for the most part we are scorned and mocked. We are thrown in a cell because it's assumed we are in the wrong and the rest of the fucking world is in the right. Do you know how difficult it is for a guy to go to the cops to report a rape? Have you any idea? I'm sure you don't. People like you don't even consider anal rape as a real offence. You don't think of it as real rape. I know… I've seen it over and over again and 'tis always the same tune playing on the old record… "You act like you want it… you got what you wanted… why are you complaining?" Well sir, I'm fucking complaining. Find my boys. Something happened to them. Matters not if they are gay or straight or somewhere in the middle. Doesn't matter if they're transexed or in drag… doesn't fucking matter. They are my boys and I want you to find them.'

'They were in drag?' The detective now stupidly asked.

'What? No! No… no they weren't. I've told you what they were wearing and though Sam might be a bit on the odd side of the dress code he still looked like a bloke – virtually – he had guy's shoes on at least and no make up. Now I shall do what I said I'll do and I'll go home and I'll sit by the phone and I'll expect you to call if you find anything. I will be making a formal complaint about the treatment and the lack of concern you've given me and to my boys. This is unacceptable.'

'Good day Mr Flanders.' The detective didn't try to shake Floyd's hand; he just turned and left the room.

'Mother fucker!' Floyd shouted after him. The man was a homophobic fool. How he'd kept his job so long Floyd didn't know.

o-o-o

Whilst Floyd was talking to the cops, Spencer was being treated to a ride out into the country. He was being delivered threats which he didn't know whether to believe, but was _not_ going to risk that they were empty.

'If you report this to the cops we'll come after you and we will kill your little butt friend, Sam.'

Spencer didn't respond to this. He didn't know where Sam was, but he knew that one of these guys had Sam's sneakers and that wasn't a good sign, unless Sam had used them to pay for something, which was maybe something to consider, though Floyd had stated that Sam was in pain and at risk of drowning.

'What have you done to Sam?' Spencer asked. 'I just…'

'Not something you need to concern yourself with.' Fabio told Spencer. 'He's not going to be a problem unless you flap your trap and go running to the cops.'

'Surely this situation could have been completely avoided had you not attacked me.' Spencer informed them. 'Let me out of the van now and let me go and this will be the last you hear of it… at least from me.'

Muttering. Spencer could hear them talking amongst themselves. They weren't sure what to do with their prisoner. If they just let him go then he might go straight to the cops but they couldn't keep him forever… and they didn't have the stomach to kill someone for no reason. 'You'll blab to the cops.'

'It was all just a misunderstanding. I know that. Let me go now and nothing will happen. I can promise you that I'll say nothing to anyone. I'll keep this to myself. Really who will believe me anyway? I was obviously out looking for trouble and found some. It's my own fault. You can drive on off away and we'll never see each other again. Take my shoes if you want… take my wallet.'

'We already have your wallet. Dr Reid.' Fabio told him, but it seemed to decide things. 'OK… but we're not letting you out here. Behave and you'll be all right.'

Spencer lay on the cold metal floor in the back of the van and wondered if he had any chance of fighting these people off and maybe he did if he though his life was in danger, but these were lightweights. They didn't want a killing on their hands, which in turn comforted Spencer. Had they killed Sam they'd carry on and do him too. Sam must still be alive. 'Is Sam here?' He asked. The answer wasn't vocal. It was sudden hideous pain to the side of his face which was already bleeding from the knife which had been so readily used there. The pain took Spencer to a lovely comfortable place where there was nothing but cotton candy and hugs.

It was a few hours later when he woke up alone, in the dark, tied to a tree somewhere. His first thought was that he was still alive… and for that he was grateful. His second thought was that he still had his pants on… and again he was grateful. It was realising that he was tied by his hands and feet to a fallen tree in an unknown woods full of unknown creatures, in the dark, in a place he knew there were creatures crawling in the shadows – creatures which tore you apart and ate your internals… that was what caused the panic and the tearing of the cords which bound his hands behind his back and his feet (sans shoes) to the tree further down. He was stretched out on the leafy summer woodland, his back to the tree which had probably fallen during the spring storms, facing the pitch blackness of a night which seemed to have no moon or stars. They'd not gagged him. They'd not stripped him naked, but they had as far as Spencer was concerned, done something far worse.

He struggled for ten minutes.

He screamed for twenty.

He struggled again for half an hour… giving his throat a rest… and then lay there wondering how long he'd been here, how long it was until daylight… wondering if he was dead and this was his own little bit of hell. His wrists, he could feel, were bleeding. His ankles felt sore and bruised. He would have liked to have slept… kept his energy for the daylight when shouting for help might produce something other than blinding fear. But sleep was the last thing he dared do.

'Crap.' Spencer whispered a small curse which he thought was very well deserved.


	10. Chapter 10

10

Sam pulled a length of something splintery and scratchy out of his backside and rolled coughing and sneezing onto his back. He could see the sky and he could see the occasional star trying to shine through a thing blanket of heavy storm clouds. Well it seemed obvious to Sam that he'd been laying wherever it was he was laying for a while now. His limbs ached. His head hurt. His arse was bleeding… he could feel the heat of the blood crawling over his cold itchy buttocks. His shoulders hurt, but one was completely numb and his arm and hand seemed wrong. He guessed that his shoulder was dislocated. There was mud in his mouth and up his nose, small insects crawling over his bare skin where they were caught in his sweat and in the mud he'd been thrown in.

'How the fuck am I still alive?' He curled his toes and pulled his knees up. One hand he left at his side where it wanted to stay and the other he moved down to the warmth and comfort between his legs. He wanted to pull his jeans up and get warmer but for now he didn't move. For now he just lay there and tried to concentrate on maybe getting Floyd out here to help him. He could smell crushed grass and the sap from broken flower stems. He could smell his own sweat and blood and he could taste tears and snot on his lips when he licked them. He'd been crying, but he couldn't remember doing that. It didn't really surprise him though. What was more of a worry was that he didn't know how long he'd been here. A while he'd guess by the way the plants seemed to be trying to grow around him. And this worried him too because that meant that either Floyd hadn't missed him or that Floyd didn't care. Why hadn't he sniffed him out and come looking for him. What if something had happened to Floyd in that house… What if he'd chosen to just forget his existence and move on just with Spencer? What if Spencer had encouraged this and now he was forever forgotten? Sam thought about sitting up. He pulled his hand from the warm place it had wandered back to and pushed up on one shaking elbow, but his head span and throbbed and his back screamed at him and a fresh gush of warmth exited his backside. Sam lay back down and continued what he'd been doing in his sleep and cried and coughed up mud and sneezed out wriggling creatures from his nose and he thought to concentrate and call Floyd to him, but the fear that Floyd was ignoring him was too overwhelming. Sam just closed his sore eyes and let self pity (which he thought was very deserved,) wash over him like a tidal wave.

And it began to rain.

o-o-o

Spencer also felt the rain beginning. He could hear it approach, like some slobbering wet monster… the rain pattering and splashing on the fresh green leaves… closer and closer… it sounded like the slobber from a huge black creature; something demonic, slithering its way towards him. It was with a gasp of horror, closely followed by relief when something wet and cold fell on the side of his cut face. He wanted to reach up and wipe it away and his hands jerked in their bindings bringing on a fresh bit of pain as he rubbed the cord against his raw bleeding skin. He then tried a smile… just to reassure himself that this was just rain and not a night monster come to rip him away from his secure place (maybe leaving his hands and feet behind) and it was actually just rain. Heavy rain. But just rain. The side of his face which had been cut was tight with both the actually wound and with the blood which was smeared over his face. The smile was lopsided and painful. He wouldn't be trying that again soon. At least there was no feeling that he'd opened the cut again. It seemed maybe to be healing… or… maybe… just maybe the side of his face was numb because it was rotting away slowly and being eaten by creature who would eat the pus out of his wound. He shuddered and peered out again into the darkness, hoping to see something glittering, a light, a movement… a sweeping arc from a flashlight… oh how wonderful would that be? But there was nothing. He knew that Floyd would be looking for him. He knew that. But now Spencer's thoughts drifted a bit towards Sam and the way Sam would look at someone. The way he'd beguile and manipulate. The way Sam would send out his own special smells and enchant anyone he wanted to… and he thought of his warm bed and what Sam and Floyd would be doing… Sam not caring that he was missing and Floyd having forgotten. It made Spencer angry. It make him feel hot despite the now constant splatter of rain on the side of his face and now soaking into his shirt. He shuddered and unknowingly did the same as Sam and curled his toes. It was the only bit of comfort he could find.

And if Floyd wasn't going to come looking for him then he was going to have to rely on strangers. Spencer carefully moved so that he was looking straight up into the dark canopy of big ancient trees and let the rain fall on his face, drinking it up, washing the dirt and blood away as much as he could… shivering with that deep down cold that attacks the bones and makes you feel as though you are packed in ice, but also shaking with anger, fear, and that heat his body was generating as he closed his eyes and imagined what Floyd and Sam were up to.

o-o-o

Well obviously Floyd wasn't with Spencer or Sam. He was pacing, drinking, smoking and glaring at the telephone which he hated now more than he'd ever hated it. He wanted to rip it from the housing and stamp up and down on it. He wanted to kill the son of a bitch, but he was waiting, waiting, waiting for it to ring.

It grew dark. Floyd lay on the floor where he had done before and he stared at the patterns the rain made as the light from an exterior light reflected the rain onto the ceiling. He tried to feel where Sam was and all he got was a taste of mud, the smell of plants and maybe a touch of hate mingled with fear. There was pain. Arse clenching pain… the lad was hurt. He was in the open. Floyd could feel Sam's shivering body and could feel the rain dropping onto him… but he'd be damned if he could actually contact him or figure out where he was. He at least needed a starting point. He had nothing.

With Spencer, Floyd could also pick up something. It just wasn't enough. He could feel that Spencer felt confined and Floyd right assumed that Spencer had been restrained by something. Again he could feel the cold, the fear and once again a sly loathing. It was more of a slithering slow hate he was getting from Spencer, not the full blown, miserable feeling he was getting from Sam. It made Floyd all the more certain that they weren't together, even though they were both in the open somewhere. The two of them were not drawing comfort from each other.

Floyd rolled onto his side and looked at the coffee table leg and then beyond that to the leg of the table the telephone sat on. He dragged his miserable self over to it and punched in the number the detective had given him as a contact number. He'd not called it yet and now he stood there with a look of fierce anger on his face… _Sorry but this number is out of service_ Though why the bastard would do that Floyd didn't know, unless he truly was hiding something from Floyd… who was now pulling on a long waxed coat, snatching up a flashlight and walking out of the house which stood there teasing him with the warmth of the bed and the quiet of the night. It wasn't going to last. Eventually whatever had been here was going to come back again and that peace and quiet would be shattered – Floyd would then blame it on Sam and then Spencer… or the other way around depending on who he was favouring and then they'd wander off blood splattered and in shock and look for something else to amuse them. Though walking down the road at night in the rain was not Floyd's idea of amusement.

'Sam!' He decided that calling out would maybe produce a better result than just walking 'Spencer!' he tried that one too, but he didn't think that Spencer was so close.

That rich earthy taste mixed with stagnant filth was coming to Floyd again. He kept having to wipe at his nose with the back of his hand… and looking at it almost expecting to see something other that watery snot which he wiped on the inside of his coat pocket. 'Sam! Where the fuck are you?' Again he called… first to one side and then to the next… He crouched down at the side of the road where Sam had sat and he reached out a hand and wiped it over the grass where Sam had been sitting. Why the hell he couldn't get a proper hold on Sam he didn't know. It should be easy. He should be able to close his eyes and be able to see what Sam was seeing and feel what Sam was feeling… and to a lesser degree he should be able to do the same with Spencer.

And he was distracted by the terrible pain not just around his arse but deep down inside of him where it felt like something had been torn or ruptured. The cramping pains swept over his abdomen and around his sides to his back. It produced the sudden need to drop his jeans and squat at the side of the road and empty himself. Once done and with his jeans around his thighs he puked… then puked some more. He brought up blood, lumps of what looked to be liver or some sort of wobbly reddish brown stuff, and general puked up lumps of a former dinner or lunch. The force of it made his eyes water and made his nose bleed. He felt a popping feeling of vertigo in his ears as the grass verge swapped places with the sky and Floyd lay there for a while in his shit and puke and thought that this was such a wonderful way to die… and this was very likely why his boys were not answering him.

Slowly he got back to his knees, pulled his clothing back into place and wiped down the mess with a clod of wet grass. This wasn't going very well, but his boys were hurt and that bastard detective wasn't going to do anything about it. He'd have strong blood filled words with that man later. Firstly… firstly he had to find where Spencer and Sam were… and again because he had a feeling that Sam was closer, it was his name that was called. 'Sam!' The shout ended in a croak, a cough and a splat of muddy water he exhaled from down inside of him. 'Fuck this,' Floyd moaned and swished the flashlight around through the dark and rain.

o-o-o

Sam could hear that the wind had picked up and he could feel more than see the water running down the side of the ditch he'd been thrown into. Again he tried to sit and again he ended up falling back into a deep splat of water which was filling his grave (as he was now thinking of it) faster than he'd like. The plants around him were sagging with the weight of the rain and falling across his abdomen, tickling with freezing cold stems and leaves.

Then for the love of the gods! He could hear someone walking. He could hear the crunching of the undergrowth and at first he thought it was an animal and his body froze in terror that it might be a wild cat or a bear or something hideous and able to eat him in one bite… and then he heard a snuffling laugh. That was no animal. That was a person!

'Help me!' Sam wailed. His voice croaking and wobbling in complete joy and fear.

'Oh no worries… no worries little dark one.' The voice answered.

And Sam's joy left him and more tears… and the gods only knew where he managed to find so many tears and so much snot, but somehow Sam managed it in abundance. He used the hand joined onto the arm that was still working properly to pull the plants down over him… to hide… to slide back out of the way and be gone from here. 'Go away.' Sam mumbled as he squished and moved slowly, inch by pain filled inch back away from something he couldn't see, but sure as hell (no pun intended) could sense. He let out a small squeak of a scream when something landed in the ditch at his feet. The scream turned into a wail of distress as something so cold that it seemed to burn, grabbed his ankles and pulled him forwards again.

'Keep still. Just going to talk.' The thing said and Sam lifted his head to see what was there, but could see nothing.

'Please don't.' He whimpered. 'Please leave me alone.'

'So pathetic. So simply low.' The hands tightened and something dug into Sam's skinny ankles making the skin pop and blood trickle out.

'Whatever it was I did…'

'Shush baby boy. I'm here to talk. I'm here to explain.'

He tried kicking out. He tried to shout and the slithery something which he still couldn't see released his feet and slid up over his bare thighs and as one thing took a tight gut churning hold of his tackle another slapped firmly over his face, covering his mouth and nose. Sam's cries of alarm and his pleading and begging were cut off, but his eyes went wide. Still there seemed to be nothing there. Nothing he could see, but he could feel and smell it. It had a smell of rotting leaves and small dead animals. It smelt of death.

'Listen to me in silence or I kill you here.' It spat something hot over Sam's face and though he could feel the clawed hand over his mouth and nose, this hot stuff still managed to find skin where it landed and hissed like acid. 'Silence.' It said again and to add to the instruction squeezed Sam's balls to the point that the thought they'd just been ripped off.

He tried to fight it, but what was the point in having a life if you had to live without his manhood. Sam lay still. He lay so still that he could well have been dead and slowly he nodded at the invisible invader.

'Good maggot. Now hear.' The hand moved from Sam's face and his breaths were deep and gulping… sobbing, childish cries. The thing spoke in a deep rattling growl. 'Your master is going to attempt to summon me.' It spoke slowly now, as though talking to a half wit. 'He will try to call me back and he will try to make deals with me. I'm not interested in making deals with that lowly creature, Flanders. What I want is release from this cursed place. I need to be free to return to the pits I was spawned in… You see you and I are not so very different. We were both created in the same place. We are both trapped here. We can both blame that stupid wanna be, Flanders. So we, the pair of us are going to come to an understanding and you will agree to it. And you will agree to it here and now or I _will_ tear your balls off and stuff them down that pretty boy throat of yours. Do you understand? Just nod.'

Sam nodded slowly. The dawning horror that this was the thing that had ripped apart the Specksons filled his mind and a snot bubble popped as though in time with his thoughts. Yes he would agree. He'd agree to anything whilst his balls were in danger.

'Flanders ruined everything and he knows he did and now he's going to suffer immeasurable pain and anguish as a result. You are aware what I can do if you refuse my offer?'

'I'm aware.' Sam muttered back.

'You will bond with me.'

'I can't. I belong to Floyd.'

'You will bond with me. Turn over.'

'I'm bleeding! I'm dying!' Sam howled at it and again a hand slapped down over his face.

'You will not argue with me. You are going to be my dog and do whatever I tell you to do. You want to die here in this hole in the ground or do you wish my help?'

Sam nodded again as he felt the weight of the hand crushing his lips against his teeth. The hand slid back out of the way.

'Turn over.'

'Please don't. I'm bleeding. I'm dying. Fucking me will kill me and I'll be no use to you.' Sam cried out in sobbing juttering breaths.

It seemed that this thing had more than one set of hands, which really wasn't all that surprising. A hand wrapped around the back of Sam's neck and pushed his face down into the watery mud. Another hand snaked around to play and taunt Sam quickly shrinking balls. Another seemed to be pushing Sam's legs apart… but it felt like a tongue and not a dick or fingers which probed Sam's arse. He opened his mouth to scream, tried to pull his head out of the mud and succeeded in pulling in a lung full of filth. The assault was over almost as soon as it had begun. Sam wasn't sure exactly what it was the thing had done to him apart from giving him a mother of a rim job. He was flipped back over onto his back and that tongue which had been so exploratory now slipped between Sam's parted lips as he coughed and tried to get air into his lungs which felt really as though they'd never work properly again. The tongue then slipped over Sam's tongue and made its way down his throat. Sam flapped his good hand around… tried to claw at the thing he couldn't see and felt his clogged up dirty lungs burning with pain. Then it was gone. The whole of it was over. The creature left as though it had never been there and thank the gods for that.

He felt that he'd fooled it.

He'd told it that he'd bond with it, but all it had done was lick him and give him the kiss from hell. Now all Sam could do was lay there in the dark and hope Floyd hurried up and found him… if he was even thinking of him. If he would ever remember that he existed.

o-o-o

Spencer sensed something was there in much the same way Sam had. The crunching of the undergrowth confirmed what he'd thought.

'Hello?' Spencer called out. 'Is someone there?'

A voice spoke directly into Spencer's ear causing him to jump and pull at his bonds again. 'Stupid question. If there was no one here then no one would answer. If there was someone here maybe they would answer and maybe they wouldn't.'

Spencer said nothing. The voice wasn't Floyd's it wasn't Sam's and it was a long way from comforting.

'I would like to make a deal with you.' Spencer felt the fallen tree he was tied to shift slightly as though something had sat on it. 'I will untie you and point you in the right direction, but in exchange you will assist me.'

It didn't sound like a very good rescue to Spencer. 'Who are you?'

'I am your very worst nightmare.' It answered. 'So will you make a deal with me in exchange for your life?'

Now the rescue really didn't sound like a rescue at all. It was a continuation of the hell he was already going through. 'I don't make deals with people if I don't know what the deal is.'

The shifting of the tree again as the thing moved… and Spencer was quite sure this was a _thing_ and not a person. The smell alone brought back loving memories of the lands outside The Bastion. Disease, death, rotting…

'You want to die here?'

'Of course not.' Spencer spoke quietly, trying to keep his calm exterior. 'But I don't know what the deal is yet.'

A rustling of leaves and a deep stinking smell as the thing breathed over Spencer's face. 'When Flanders tries to summon me, you will stop him. You will do everything in your power to prevent it. You will find the scrolls he has and you will destroy them. Burn them. You will stop him from doing what he has planned even if that means killing him. That's the deal… in exchange I will release you.'

Spencer just lay there thinking for a moment. They were very likely the last thoughts he was ever going to have so he tried to think of something nice. He thought of cosy winter evenings sitting with Floyd reading to each other. He thought of the look of disgust on Floyd's face when he drank the coffee he'd just been given. He thought of the long bike rides with his arms holding on much tighter than he needed to, with his head resting against Floyd's leather jacket, breathing in that glorious smell Floyd carried with him everywhere… thinking of the way Floyd felt under his hands… the way his body tensed and relaxed.. 'You're going to have to kill me, because I'll do nothing for you.'

A claw picked at the scab on Spencer's face opening up the furnace which had been burning there and releasing a slither of pus. 'I will kill you slowly.' It spoke a promise.

'If you thought that you could intimidate me to go against Floyd then you thought wrong. I might not be the strongest or most stable person, but my loyalty is for Floyd and it always will be.'

'Except for when you're fucking Sam? But Spencer… you have to realise that Flanders intends to use you as bait. He's made a mistake there because that wont work… destroy the scrolls.'

'No. No… maybe he'd use me as bait, but he'd not let me die.'

'But your refusal to assist me is going to be your death anyway.' It let out a horrible sound, almost like a giggle.

Spencer blinked into the darkness and pulled back those comfortable loving images he had and used for moments like this. 'Then do it.' Spencer said. 'I'm hardly a threat to you as I can't move.'

'Destroy the scrolls. Initiate with Sam.'

'I'm not making a deal with you.'

'You will regret it.' The dirty foul voice hissed at Spencer. 'I will give you an example of what death feels like.'

'I know what it feels like. You can't use that as a threat.' Spencer thought that it could use it as a threat and was doing a damned good job at using it as such, but nothing was going to force Spencer to make a deal which would in any way hurt Floyd. Again Spencer pulled images over his mind. He forced back the pain in his face, the deep throbbing in his shoulders where his arms were wrenched back. He fought against it not physically, because Spencer knew that there was no way he could beat this creature in that way. The only thing he could do to fight against it was to give it no satisfaction… and when the clawed hand scraped over his neck and took a good grip and started to squeeze and release… squeeze and release… Spencer brought forward memories of Floyd doing this…

Spencer pictured his apartment and the way Floyd could lift him up off the floor with one hand. He felt not the woodland under him but the feel of the cool plaster of the apartment wall. He imagined this was Floyd beating him endlessly against that wall, making the plaster crack, making his head slam back into the wall whilst that hand…

Squeezed and released…

And the blood flowed to Spencer's face and his mouth opened and his feet rattled against Floyd's shins and the wall…

And he squeezed and released…

And it was beautiful.

It reminded Spencer of a time back when he was at school… He'd had a bad day and the day was getting worse. There was a particular group of lads – teenagers – who picked on Spencer relentlessly. One of them, a tall, thin, blue eyed creature with black wriggly hair which hung down to his neck… a long pale neck – Spencer wasn't sure if he thought that way about Nate at the time, but he was thinking it now… Nate wasn't part of the mob of jocks. Nate was intelligent and he felt his intelligence was threatened by the kid with the glasses and the brain which stunned anyone who spoke to him. Nate's eyes watered in anger that day. He'd brought along a group of bigger, stronger looking lads, but it was Nate who grabbed Spencer's backpack and swung him around, pushing him against the tree which stood out there in the street, but shielded any wrong doing as the bus stop was the other side, further down the road.

'You little son of a bitch.' Nate spoke with a slight lisp… and Spencer looked at that teenaged adam's apple bob up and down as Nate swallowed back his anger. 'You will stop making me look like a fool.' At the time Spencer had been terrified. The boy had a hand around Spencer's throat and was pushing him back hard. The backpack had been torn from his shoulders and thrown to the side… the bark of the tree pressed into Spencer's twelve year old back. 'You'll mind your fucking place.' Nate spat into Spencer's face. He knew at the time that things had been different. He'd not been staring at Nates neck the way he was now…

Squeeze and release…

… but now Spencer could see that creamy coloured flesh and he could see the marks, bruises on the neck, just below his ears and up under his jaw. Someone had done just this same thing to him… Spencer now watched that angry tear fall down Nate's face… a thick syrupy tear which looked golden in the fall light of the big tree with the golden leaves… At the time Spencer had been so scared because there was no Floyd… Floyd wasn't there to watch his back and Nate knew it. Nate for some reason knew that Floyd wouldn't come to his rescue.

'Learn to keep your mouth shut.' Nate spat anger into Spencer's face… and said something which Spencer didn't understand at the time and now as he felt blood trickling down the side of his neck… he could feel those claws digging into his flesh, pulling him back from Nate and pulling him back from Floyd… but didn't Nate say something…?

'He's mine you little bastard. He's mine.'

And at the time it had meant nothing… not really. He'd been too scared to wonder what Nate was on about, but Nate's hands left him and the teenager with the bright blue eyes walked away…

o-o-o

Floyd gave up calling for either of his boys when he got a waft of that smell. A dank, dark, evil smell which could only come from one thing… well two things if you cared to include Floyd and he didn't… so yes, one thing. He followed the tendrils of smell the way a dog would follow a scent. He sniffed the air and pulled that stink to himself. Had he been able to actually see it, it would have looked like a thick green soup of a cloud. It was low to the ground and often Floyd had to crouch down and get a better sniff of it, but it was strong and fresh and it was almost alive with malice.

It took Floyd to the other side of the road and about half a mile down until those tendrils became one large cloud. Now he stood and looked and waved the flashlight around and he thought of calling for Sam, but something told him that there was small point in that. A physical search was what was needed. It was only ten minutes later that he found Sam in the ditch. The rain was still hammering down and the ditch was a good few inches deep in water now. He jumped down next to his Sam and hunkered down next to him. Sam's eyes were closed and his face looked bruised and battered in the light of the flashlight. And that smell… that thick smell which was making the back of Floyd's throat hurt was here so strong that there was small doubt over what had been going on. Carefully he moved Sam's head, looking at the marks on his face. Small purple bruises on the side of his face… and that bluish tinge of something around Sam's mouth… now he moved down and looked at Sam's exposed body. It was obvious that the lad had been down here for a while, but some of these marks were fresh. Floyd closed his eyes and pressed the heel of his hands against his eyes. 'Son of a bitch.' He muttered and then scooped Sam up and dragged him out of the ditch and took him away from the road and further into the woods. There he sat with his back to a tree and held Sam in his arms. He listened to the laboured breaths and watched Sam's chest heave in and out. He pulled Sam's jeans back up again after inspecting his backside and looking for more marks to confirm his suspicions which made Floyd's hackles rise and a sick, sad feeling fall into his stomach. 'Come on now… time to wake up.' He licked at the side of Sam's face and then spat out the vile taste in his mouth… no flowery taste of roses today… a thick, evil taste of something long gone… rotting. 'Fuck it.' Floyd hissed at Sam. 'Wake up now.' He gave him a small shake. 'Come on! Got to find Spencer. Wake up.' And another shake and Sam's eyes opened and then his mouth opened and he started screaming and scratching and trying to get away. 'It's only me. It's me. Calm down. I'm not going to hurt you.'

'Floyd.' Sam's voice croaked a flat note which still managed to sound like he was on the verge of hysteria. 'Oh fuck.'

Floyd patted Sam on the shoulder. 'You have a dislocated shoulder. I'll put that right then we go and look for Spencer.' He didn't bother asking Sam what had happened because Floyd thought that there was just going to be a long tirade of lies. 'I've been out of my mind worrying about you.' He told Sam, using the same flat and emotionless tone Sam had used on him.

'I thought I was going to die.' Sam cried as Floyd pushed him to the ground and stood next to him ready to… and willing to… rip Sam's arm off if he had to.

'Well, aren't you lucky that I found you.' Floyd hissed back as he placed one foot on Sam's shoulder and then wrenched his arm in one hard jerk or a twist. Sam's shoulder cracked… Sam screamed a long howl of pain and Floyd dropped down to his knees next to him. 'We need to go. Can you walk?'

'I can try.' Sam moaned as he clutched his arm to his chest. 'How did you find me?'

Floyd gave Sam a small side long glance and raised his eyebrow. 'I followed the sound of your snotting tears.' No sympathy. Nothing. A cold reply which made Sam shudder. 'Move it or stay here.' He moved behind Sam and shoved him forwards. 'I found you first but that doesn't mean I wanted to.'

'What did I do wrong?' Sam snivelled between wiping his nose on his hand and taking in shuddering breaths. 'I was attacked!'

'Do I look like I give a shit? Move it.'


	11. Chapter 11

11

Floyd threatened, and cajoled Sam forwards with fingertips pressing into the middle of Sam's back. He needed Sam in front of him, not because he didn't trust him, which he didn't, but because he didn't want Sam to see the various expressions drifting over his face. Floyd could see the deep dark bruising on Sam's shoulder and that bruising spread out over towards Sam's shoulder blade and down his side and now it seemed to be crawling up Sam's neck. It had been a nasty dislocation and it _did_ bother Floyd that it had been left too long and infection was going to set in, that it would never heal properly… The scratch marks on Sam's back were a matter of slight concern too. The small ones which had been caused by the things Sam had been laying in… the early summer brambles with their hook like thorns had played a part in the mess Sam's back was in, but it wasn't so much those small scratches and digs that Floyd was looking at with the flashlight, it was those few deep slices which came in even groups of three… claw marks, deep and not done by anything natural. They would scar and add to the criss-cross pattern of silvery lines on Sam's back – that was assuming Sam lived long enough for the wounds to heal and the scarring to take place. Floyd had no idea what it was Sam had agreed to, but he was going to find out soon… oh Floyd was sure of that… but whether it was going to be his own hand that squeezed the life out of that traitorous body or if maybe it would be Spencer, or even if Sam did it to himself… Floyd was very sure that Sam's life should have ended down in that ditch.

'My arse hurts.' Sam groaned and turned to look at Floyd who quickly shifted his expression to one of concern.

Floyd reached out for Sam and grabbed him by his good shoulder, pulled him close and just held him there for a while, pressing Sam's head against his chest. He thought about snapping Sam's neck and stamping up and down on that skinny chest. 'You look like a junky.' Floyd muttered. 'You're a fucking mess.'

Sam said nothing. He had always prided himself on his appearance. He knew that he had a lovely face. He knew that his body was literally to kill for… but he also knew that he was now underweight and that he was beginning to go from cute young man to used up junky… and he wanted either to drown this disappointment in more narcotics or to pull away from it and become that beautiful young man he thought he should be and once was. 'Just one more hit and I'll stop.' He sniffed onto Floyd's waxed coat.

It was really the answer Floyd thought he'd get. The lad was not going to admit what he was. 'You're a dirty whore. You sell your arse so you can pump your mind full of chemicals. That's not what I taught you. I taught you to be constantly vigilant. Sure, whore yourself out, but do it for the pleasure of the act, not for the money.' He held his boy tighter and felt his own heat swelling inside of him. Floyd knew that this should end here. He knew that Sam had been corrupted by something and he had a good idea what it was that had done it… and he tightened his hands on Sam who didn't seem to realise what it was Floyd was doing. He just snuffled in closer and took in the lovely Floydian smell… And then was pushed away.

'We need to go and find Spencer.' Floyd told Sam… He couldn't do it. Even though this wasn't his boy any more and even though he knew Sam meant harm… even though this creature was dirty, beaten, snotty… it was still beautiful in its own broken and sorry way and there might be a way to fix it.

'Do you love me?' Sam asked…

Floyd could see the shadow of Sam's dark eyelashes on the darkening skin under his eyes and it made his stomach heave with sorrow… and that wasn't something Floyd felt very often and he didn't want to be feeling it again when he found Spencer. 'Of course. I came looking for you didn't I? I fixed your arm for you… Of course I love you.'

'You'd not hurt me?'

Floyd shook his head and put a smile on his face. A smile which didn't reach his eyes, but that was fine, Sam never noticed things like that. 'Never… Not unless… but…' Floyd slipped the smile away and shrugged. 'Come… let's find Spencer and get home. We all need a long shower or a soak in the tub. This woodland stinks.'

So they walked on further and this time Floyd took hold of Sam's hand, not lovingly, but more like a possession… and he dragged his mutinous dog along with him as he sniffed at the air and walked towards where Spencer was laying and Floyd felt he'd been honest with Sam. When the time came, if it was left to him to finish it, he'd kill Sam quickly. He'd not hurt him… He'd not give the demon who had molested his dog that much satisfaction.

'How do you know which way to go?' Sam's voice broke the silence they'd been walking through.

Floyd stopped walking and pulled Sam down to hunker. 'Feel the ground.' Floyd's hand pressed Sam's to the earth. 'Feel it.'

Sam shook his head. He couldn't feel anything and Floyd knew that he'd feel nothing. 'What am I meant to be feeling?'

'It's slight, which is likely why you can't feel it… like a warmth. It feels as though something is sliding over the ground and touching my fingertips and pulling me onwards.'

Sam pulled his hand out from under Floyd's and shook his head. 'I thought it was vibrations you were feeling for. But you're not tracking by this.'

Floyd stood up and wiped his fingers on the side of his coat. 'Indeed. I'm tracking by the smell. I assumed you were too. Can you not smell that?'

Sam walked a small circle and came back to face Floyd. 'No. What am I meant to be able to smell?'

'Corruption.' Floyd told him in a whisper. 'It's as though the devil himself has walked these woods.'

'I thought you could smell Spencer? Are we not looking for him?' It was a confused questioning voice. Maybe a scared voice.

'Uh hu.' Floyd muttered and reached out again for Sam's hand. Floyd placed his other hand on his head. 'I feel Spencer here. Inside my mind. I can feel him… the two lead to the same place.'

'Can you feel me in there too?' Sam questioned.

'No need. I can feel you in my hand.' And he squeezed it. 'No need for added distractions. 'Now walk.'

'I keep getting things in the bottom of my feet.' Sam moaned. 'They stole my shoes. They let me party with me then they were on me and…' Sam's voice drifted through one of Floyd's ears and out of the other. He had no interest in Sam's sorry story. The matter than he'd been set upon by a gang of retards neither surprised or interested him… he wanted Sam to open up and admit what he'd agreed to do, maybe if he did that then Floyd could help him, but he wasn't going to assist a devious little shit, which is what Sam was being.

'I'm surprised that you are able to stand, let alone walk.' Floyd commented as Sam stopped to pull a thorn out of the bottom of his foot. 'When I started tracking for you there was a lot of pain. I felt it. I squirted blood out of my backside, mouth and nose… same time… messy.' He stopped talking and gave Sam a chance to tell him of his remarkable recovery. 'You suffered a grave injury.' Floyd now said and still Sam remained silent. 'You lay in a fucking ditch for two days… I'd say that the pain must have been extensive, if not the damage. It felt to me like your bowels had been ruptured. You were dying.'

Sam's face twitched a small smile. 'I heal quickly, thank the gods.'

Floyd nodded and placed a cool hand on the side of Sam's face. 'Yes. Let us thank the gods. Later though. For now…' He pointed in the direction they'd been going. 'The gods have been kind to you.' Floyd said as they walked onwards. The thick smell was there again, oozing around an area with a lot of fallen trees.

'I think sometimes that the gods forget me.' Sam whined.

'They are merciful.' Floyd spoke, but now pulled Sam to a halt. 'Wait here.' A hand on Sam's shoulder pushed him down. 'I don't know what I'm going to find.'

'I've seen many horrific sights.' Sam whispered. 'Do you think Spencer is dead?' Sam could hardly conceal the fright or was it wonder in his voice.

'Wait.' He ran gentle fingers through Sam's hair. 'I'll call you over when I need you. If you hear something just shout.'

'Hear something?' Sam glanced around the dark forest… the rain had stopped but the water was dripping down in big wet splats off the trees.

'You know… something which shouldn't be out here in the woods at night.' Floyd gave the top of Sam's head a kiss… Again he could taste the corrupt and sour taste coming off Sam… and even though he'd said so many times in the past and would no doubt continue to say it, he _did_ care about Sam and this was pissing him off righteously. 'Stay safe. I'll be right over there.' He moved away quickly before he could tear Sam up off the ground and start shaking him for being such an idiot… then kissing it all away.

'Fucking damnit.' Floyd groaned as he made his way by the huge sideways trees which all seemed to have fallen in the same direction as though a giant had arrived and snapped the forest with a swipe of his mighty paw. He moved slowly, not only listening out for the sounds of evil and demonic activity, but also listening for Spencer… it wasn't a sound that alerted him to Spencer, but pale wet flesh glinting in the light of the flashlight he had in his hand. Still he didn't run. He took things carefully. Falling and snapping his neck now would solve no problems. A quick glance over his shoulder and he saw that Sam hadn't moved. Had that been his own Sam, the one he loved… maybe… then he would have moved. His own Sam wouldn't sit there plotting something… his own Sam would be trying to help and ingratiate himself to Floyd… this Sam just sat and picked at his toes and watched… Those eyes glaring back weren't Sam's.

Floyd turned his back on the creature and hunkered down now next to Spencer. 'Hey Babes.' He touched the cold flesh on the side of Spencer's face. He'd been cut and the wound had been infected, but now it was just a nasty open wound slowly turning black around the edges. He looked down at the slightly open eyes and then at the mouth with the purple bruising around the swollen lips. He didn't have to check, but still he moved his fingertips to the side of Spencer's cold neck… and then he moved his hand and placed it on Spencer's chest.

Floyd sat down in the dirt and put fingertips onto his temples and he rubbed furiously. Then he did the same to his eyes and across his nose. Next Floyd moved so that he could get to the bindings holding Spencer's hands behind his back… they undid easily as did the ones on his ankles. Floyd pulled Spencer over so that he was laying on his back and then he sat down next to him and pulled Spencer's head onto his lap. He sat maybe forever with Spencer laying there cold, getting colder… turning blue… the blood already beginning to settle, slowly finger brushing his hair and running his thumb over Spencer's lips. He carefully ran his hand down over Spencer's face and closed his eyes properly. Floyd guessed Spencer had been gone for a couple of hours, but his spirit was still there… his soul was still hanging on; calling out to him and guiding him here. This wasn't the end… not yet. Floyd wouldn't allow it to be over like this. It wasn't until something touched Floyd on the shoulder that he remembered Sam.

'It's getting light.' Sam spoke quietly. 'You've been sitting there for ages.' No word of sorry or sympathy because this creature couldn't.

'I'll carry him back to the house.'

Sam nodded. 'How far is it? My feet are really sore.'

'A mile or so.'

Sam nodded again. 'Why not bury him out here? It seems stupid to carry him back to the house. You might be seen. What will you do with him anyway? He's going to end up in the ground anyhow.'

Floyd would have reached up and torn Sam's throat from his unthinking body… but not yet… oh not yet. 'I need to wash him down. Oil him. Give him a farewell fuck.'

'Floyd, he's dead. You can't fuck him.'

'Sam… Sammy-boy… Give me a break will you?' He chucked the flashlight to the side. 'Carry that. I'll carry Spencer.'

'Are you going to have his heart and liver?' Sam licked at his lips without thinking.

'Sam…' Floyd wanted to say so much more, but didn't. It would have let Sam know that he was so onto him that he might as well have Guilty stamped on his forehead. 'I'm not leaving him here.'

'What killed him?' Sam peered now over Floyd's shoulder and shone the light down onto the bruised face.

'Not an animal. Animals – non-human animals don't tie people up, so this is a _who_ not a_ what._'

'Ok Cool… That's what I meant. What – I mean… who killed him? Was it the same guys who got me do you think?'

'Considering Spencer was out searching for you… I'd suspect that has a lot to do with this.'

'Wow.' Sam moved away from Floyd and looked towards the way they'd come. 'Daylight almost.' He clicked off the flashlight. 'I guess he died a hero then? Trying to save me. Wow… Someone died for me. Feels great. That's a fucking awesome feeling.' The voice sounded false… empty… dull… Something had taken both of his boys from him in an instant. He'd not even had the chance to summon the bastard. It didn't need to be summoned. Belatedly Floyd now realised that. The thing was all ready here and had never left.

Floyd removed his coat and wrapped Spencer in it. Sam stood back and watched…

And Sam wanted to cry and be sad. Sam wanted to help and suggest things and gather herbs and prepare stuff, but he couldn't. He just stood and watched and inside of him was a happy excited glow building up which he knew shouldn't be there, but all the same it felt so damned good! He had been slightly tempted to pick up a rock and smack it over the back of Floyd's head… the idea of feeling Floyd's blood spray over his hands made his stomach clench and his nose run with the sudden adrenaline rush, but with only one good arm it wasn't worth the risk. He'd need all his strength to wallop Floyd. So he watched and wondered why he didn't care about Spencer and why he couldn't even bring himself to show some kind of pretence that he was sad… but there was just this horrible empty hollow feeling there. He wanted to walk behind Floyd so he could see Spencer's dead hands flopping down and swaying around Floyd's back, but he was told to take the lead.

'Make sure there is no where I'm going to fall.' Floyd told Sam.

Sam was again going to suggest that they left Spencer behind. The woodland creatures would eat him up… yummy, yummy and if he was eventually found in bits scattered around then they'd assume he died by a falling tree. It seemed like a good call to Sam, but he managed to bite back his words when he saw that hard, ghastly look on Floyd's face.

'Move faster.' Floyd nagged at Sam's back.

'But my feet hurt.' Sam stopped and wiped at the bottom of his feet.

'Then heal thy self.' Floyd snapped at him. 'You fixed up your torn insides… you managed to free your lungs of mud and water, surely you can mend your damned feet.'

It was a good point and not one Sam had really considered. 'I guess it took all my energy to fix my insides.' Sam muttered and rubbed at his sore shoulder, but he did start to move faster and the closer they got to home the more the burden over Floyd's shoulders weighed down on him.

o-o-o

Floyd laid Spencer out on the large oak dining table. He stripped him off, throwing the dirty clothes to the side and then heated water in large pans. Sam suggested that Floyd popped Spencer in the tub or the wet room and was shouted at and told to go away and leave him be. Sam offered to warm up the oils and again Floyd told him to get lost.

'He was my friend too!' Sam wailed. Finally maybe finding the right words to say. 'I want to help!'

'You've helped far too much recently.' Floyd pulled a towel out of a drawer and tucked it under his arm as he picked up the first large pot of water. 'Go sort your arm out. Sleep… take some drugs, get high, masturbate… do whatever it is you do, but leave me.'

Sam skitted from one foot to the next and licked at his lips. 'But…'

'For the love of the gods! Leave me! I need to do this alone! I don't want you here watching. Spencer wouldn't want you watching. I want to be alone!'

'I am feeling that I should keep an eye on you.' Sam insisted as he backed slowly away. 'You are not in your right mind.'

'NO! I'm not in my right mind! Get the fuck away from me. Get your dirty spoiled body out of my fucking sight and leave me!'

'I think that I need to be here.' But still Sam backed away. 'If you need me…'

'I wont. I really wont need you. Fuck off.' He slammed the water down onto the table next to Spencer.

Floyd took care. He washed Spencer down slowly with the white towel. He talked to him all the time, telling him that he would make this right. Begging him to stick around for a bit longer. 'I will bring you back. I'll fix things.' He muttered as he washed dirt off Spencer's left hand. He looked at the bluish fingernails and he ran his finger over the scrapes and cuts on Spencer's wrists. This was how he should have found Sam. This is what really should have happened. Had Sam died then maybe Spencer would still be alive?

He poured out the water and got the next lot. When he arrived back at the table Sam was standing there looking at Spencer's face. 'What do you want?' Floyd again slammed the bowl of water down.

'I've had a shower.' Sam muttered. 'I'm sorry he died.' He then managed to say, though it hurt his head to say it. 'I want to help.' He tried a sorry voice which came out as a shallow whine.

Floyd walked around the table and took Sam by the shoulder. He turned him away from Spencer and shoved him towards the exit. 'Get the fuck out before I have another death to look upon.' And a kick up the backside sent Sam stumbling and hissing a low sound of something not quite Sam like… something not right. A waft of stink came to Floyd as Sam stomped his way up the stairs. That creature was one of the last beings he wanted around his love right now.

After Floyd washed Spencer back and front and got as much of the muck out of his hair that he could, he concentrated on the slash to the side of his face. He washed it carefully and the wiped it over with a mix of herbs and hot water… He plucked a hair from his own head and let it soak for a short while before using it to sew the wound carefully. If all worked as it should then maybe that would scar. That really would be the least of Spencer's worries. He rubbed oils into his hands and rubbed that over Spencer's cold skin… 'Poor Babes.' Floyd whispered. 'I should have been with you. I shouldn't have sent you off looking for Sam. I failed to protect you.' He let out a long sigh and slid his arms under his now very slippery dead friend. 'I let you down, Babes… but I can fix this.' He lifted Spencer off the table and took him to their bedroom.

The room smelt of them. It smelt of an alive sweating Spencer and a willing lusty Floyd. The new smells of the oils Floyd had rubbed over Spencer were now beginning to mix with the old scents and if this didn't work that would be the only smell this room would have. He lay Spencer on his side, locked the door, closed the curtains and then stripped off himself… 'Old Woman… don't let me down now. I know you're pissed with me. I know you don't want to talk to me, but what I've done isn't Spencer's fault. Don't let Spencer down. He doesn't deserve this shit.'

o-o-o

Sam sat alone in his bedroom and nibbled on his fingernails. There was an angry voice bellowing at him inside his skull and it felt like it was making his eyeballs rattle. _You should have stopped him. If he gets that whore back it will be your fault…_ the voice wailed at him. _He was going to surrender you to me. You were going to be mine. He's a traitor. He's a liar… stop him!_

'I don't know how to stop him.' Sam moaned and held his head to stop his skull from shaking apart. 'You're hurting me! Why wont you mend my shoulder? Why are you hurting me when I said I'd help you? Why do I have to kill Floyd?'

_He has some scrolls hidden… find them. Destroy them. Release me._

Sam slowly got to his feet. The room swam around once and then settled. Still holding his head with his hands he walked to the door. 'What will happen if I don't help you?'

_You have no choice._

'I could just refuse.' Sam whispered.

_Try… try it and see what happens. Find the scrolls._

Reluctantly Sam pulled open his bedroom door. 'I don't know where to start looking.' He muttered and then tiptoed down the stairs. He didn't know why, but he avoided the second from the top and the fourth from the bottom. He had a feeling that they'd make a noise, though he'd not noticed it when he stomped his way up here earlier. The small area at the foot of the stairs had the lounge to his left, the front door straight ahead and the door to Floyd's rooms to his right. There was a strange smell down here. A smell of the heady oils Floyd had used… and they reminded Sam of churches and witches, but there was also a strong smell of lavender. Sam was tempted to knock on Floyd's door and ask what was going on, but he didn't think Floyd would answer. Sam put his back to Floyd's door, walked into the lounge and started checking places for secrets. He looked up the chimney, crawled around looking for loose flooring, pulled back the rugs and looked for trap doors. He carefully tapped the walls for secret hollow places, pulled back paintings to check behind them. There was nothing. At least in this room there was nothing. He walked to the door which led to Floyd's small office. It seemed the next most likely place for him to hide things, but then again, knowing Floyd as he did… maybe the obvious places were the least likely? He put a hand on the door and found it was locked. Not a problem as such as Sam would easily be able to open it, but it meant if it was locked then maybe there _were_ secrets he was hiding in there. 'What will happen if Floyd realises what is going on? What if tell him?' There was no reply. Sam looked at the office door again and ran his fingers over the lock. It clicked back and allowed Sam access to Floyd's private room.

There was nothing really fancy about it. Filing cabinets lined one wall, ancient books along another. A big very old desk stood against the far wall with a computer and a couple of laptops sitting on it. The big computer was showing a green light, but the screen was a swirling blue; a screensaver. Sam closed the office door and walked over to the computer, twitched the mouse and looked at the screen which popped up… a divided screen showing different rooms in the house… The wet room, Sam's bedroom, the kitchen, the den on the other side of the house and Floyd's bedroom… Sam ran his fingers over the moving images… he touched the one which showed him what Floyd was doing. 'You bastard.' Sam moaned. 'You sneaky fucking shit.' He clicked through the icons at the bottom of the screen pulling up the different rooms in the house. 'This is just so much shit…' He saw his own bathroom, his own den… 'No wonder I could feel you watching me.' Quickly Sam snapped the screen back to how it had been and he backed away. 'Do you know I was watching you fuck that dead cunt?' Sam whispered. 'Can you hear me?' He couldn't tear his eyes away from that image on the screen. 'I know I do some disgusting things, but you are the fucking lowest shit I've ever known.' He opened the door, closed it again, locked it and stood with angry tears in his eyes.

'Help me.' He muttered. 'Where are the scrolls?'

There was no reply.

'Will you be able to tell when I'm close?'

_ Keep looking. They're not in his little room where he spies on you and takes away even the privacy he claimed he'd given you._ The voice which almost seemed to be laughing replied. Sam moved through the dining room, checking the pictures on the walls again, feeling the plaster for anything odd, checking under the rug which had been imported from Japan. He even checked for secret places under the table which stank of Spencer's body and that almost terrible smell of the oils Floyd had used. There was nothing here. He checked the kitchen next and this took longer. The cupboards were stuffed with pots and pans of all sizes, plates, mugs, cups, delicate tea-sets, chunky soup bowls. The drawers held cutlery, little pots of things, tiny packets of spices… there was nothing here that shouldn't be. He picked up a bread knife and held it tightly. He tried to imagine himself plunging it into Floyd's neck, but in the image he got he saw Floyd swipe the thing out of his hand and tear it through his own stomach. Sam looked at his feet almost expecting to see his own intestines quivering there. The other side of the kitchen was a passage, one side of it lead to a screened porch, straight ahead was the door which went into the garage and next to that stairs going up to the den. Sam walked, dragging his fingers along the wall and then slowly he walked up the stairs to a big airy room with low brown leather seating, a big TV screen, cushions scattered everywhere, a drinks cabinet and a load of very pornographic photos hanging on the wall, (tastefully shot in black and white). Again Sam started a search. 'Just let me know if I get hot.' He muttered with annoyance.

o-o-o

The Old Woman had been expecting them. She sat on the grass and smiled as Floyd wandered over and sat down next to Spencer who was laying motionless on the grass. In this existence Spencer had on a strange robe, almost like a monk from the ancient times.

'You took your time.' She smiled though and held out a wrinkled hand. 'Trouble is brewing.'

Floyd prodded Spencer with his finger. 'I know there's trouble.' He dared not look at her in the eyes.

'Not this. You have lost Sam.'

'I know.' Floyd sighed. 'I will do something about that later. This is more important.'

'If that creature is released it will kill hundreds, maybe thousands. This one thing is more important than all of those lives?'

Floyd dragged air in over his teeth. 'Of course.'

'And how to you intend to stop Sam? He's close. Very close. That creature will destroy you… it will take back Spencer. What point is there in me helping you just so this poor man can be ripped apart again? Why don't you accept this is the end for him and move forwards and do what you're meant to be doing?'

Floyd touched Spencer's chest with his fingertips. 'I'll dispatch Sam.'

'You will trade one for the other? How loving is that?'

The Old Woman was annoying him. He stood up and would have kicked her in the face had she not instantly stood also. 'That damned place, Sanctuary, has been a portal for longer than I've been hanging around down there. If not this demon then another. The place is cursed. I'll send it back to hell if I can. I will do that. I said fifty, eighty, two hundred years ago that I'd do that if I was given the chance. I'd close that entrance for good, but you don't trust me.'

'I don't trust you. Are you surprised?' She took Floyd by the hand and led him away from Spencer. 'You can't close the gateway. It's not possible. You can however stop that creature that's been lurking around there for so long. You can send it back, but not with Sam.'

'I'll pull Sam back. I'll… I'll persuade him that what he's trying to do is wrong. I'll explain things.'

'Too late… he's well on his way to stopping you. I'll see what I can do for Spencer. You left it too long really. I shouldn't…'

'I had no fucking choice!' Floyd shouted at her a second before her hand struck him hard around the face.

'Firstly you will not shout at me when you are here begging favours. Secondly no child of mine will use that disgusting language at me.'

Floyd's hand went to his face where he could feel it burning. 'Bitch.' He hissed the words. 'Either help me or don't.'

'Go and stop Sam. Eliminate him.'

'It's like you're telling me to kill my child.' He moaned. 'There has to be another way. I don't want Sam dead. I don't want Spencer dead and I certainly don't want myself dead.'

She put a hand on the top of Floyd's head. 'I'll see what I can do for Spencer. You go and see if you can save your Sam. I cannot see that this is going to have an ending where we are all going to be happy. Make sure that the unhappy face is the one you intend it to be.'

He wasn't sure what the fuck she meant by that, but suddenly the grass and the blue sky was gone and Floyd was laying alone on the bed. He slid off, pulled his clothes back on again and left the room.

'Sam! Sam! Where the hell are you? I need to talk to you now!'


	12. Chapter 12

12

Sam didn't hear Floyd calling him. He was crouched down on the wooden floor up in the den at the end of the house with his head in his hands which were clawing at his scalp. It wasn't until fingers dug deeply into his bad shoulder that Sam came back to where he was and tried to pull away from whatever it was hurting him. It sent shockwaves of agony down his arm, ribs and up his neck to the side of his face. For a moment he thought that the horrible nagging demon had ripped half of his body away, but it was Floyd… Floyd hurting him even though he'd said he'd not.

'That hurts!' Sam screamed and wriggled away, but Floyd was quicker.

Floyd pulled Sam up to his feet, hands now gripping hold of Sam's upper arms and a voice shouting and spitting in Sam's face. 'Why?'

And the word was being asked over and over again like a needle caught in the grooves of a record. 'You're hurting me!' Sam cried.

'I'll fucking do more than hurt you. What are you doing?' Though Floyd knew what Sam was doing. He wanted to hear it from Sam's lips.

Sam glanced around the mess in the room. Things hauled over, pushed aside, dragged along… torn… 'I – I lost an ear-ring.' Sam muttered.

And Floyd did what he'd wanted to do for a while now with his fingers pressing in hard into Sam's arms he shook him. Sam's head rocked back, his hair flew back from his face, his knees gave way and something inside Sam's head popped. Sam felt it pop. It was like a bubble of vile hate which had been slowly growing there suddenly released its contents.

'I want you to myself! I don't want to share you with Spencer. I'm glad he's dead. I'm so fucking glad. I know you don't like me and you use me when you want something to hit and now that Spencer has taken you from me I've taken you from Spencer and it makes me feel drunk with delight. I wanted to wipe my arse on his dead face! I wanted to sing with happiness, but I'm not allowed to be happy. I have to be dragged around after you and be second in everything. You don't care that I was in a ditch for two days. You don't care that everyone hates me… and I've had enough. I don't want to be your dog any more. I've swapped you for something else. You can't touch me now. I don't belong to you and now you've got nothing. I've taken it all from you! And I've not been this happy since forever.'

During this little rant, Floyd just stood there holding Sam so tightly that he could have broken those skinny arms… but he stopped shaking Sam and now looked deep into those dark eyes. 'Liar.' He spoke calmly. 'You didn't take Spencer from me.'

'Well he's gone so does it matter?' Sam spat into Floyd's face.

'Do you know what will happen to you if you find the scrolls and destroy them?'

'I will be… I will… look, now just look… get off me and I'll explain.'

Floyd shook his head. 'You don't need to explain. I know what happened. You were laying there dying and something came and offered to help. It told you that it could help you… and maybe in a way it did, but that's not what I asked you. What I asked was… do you know what will happen to you if you find the scrolls and destroy them?'

'I will have completed my goal and I will be free.'

'As were the Specksons.' Floyd pushed Sam back onto a green and brown embroidered cushion. 'It will kill you. It will rip you apart and that, dear Sam, will be the very end of you forever. No coming back from that, because if you really gave yourself over to that monster then you are no longer mine… which then asks the question… why am I allowing you to speak of Spencer in that manner if you're not my dog? Why don't I kill you? Why don't I just stop you here? The scrolls will be safe. You'll be gone and I'd have done what I need to get Spencer back again.'

'You're lying.' Sam got back up to his feet. He could feel he was shaking. His teeth chattered together madly. 'You make deals all the time and they don't kill you. Why will this kill me? You just don't like it because I got one over on you… and if you'd paid me attention in the first place then this wouldn't have happened.

Floyd stepped towards Sam. Hands at his side, his heart pounding in his chest. 'I got you a horse.'

'Oh woopy fucking do! A horse… then you told me that you wanted me to smell like some old lost love of yours.'

'I didn't. I never said that. It's beside the point and probably much too late now, but hear me Sam, Spencer is living inside of me. He's a part of the air I breathe and part of the food I eat. I'm not going to let some creature who is lurking in the background, skulking around snatching at anything it can get it's miserable hands on, hurt him.' Floyd grabbed at Sam's arms again. Dark bruises were all ready popping up on Sam's arms, but this time Sam didn't pull away and this time the shaking was minimal, just to emphasise some of his words, just to get through to Sam that this was how things were. 'I understand that when you lay bleeding and something comes to offer you help that you'd take it. You'd grasp a hold of it and you'd never want to let that go, Sam, I understand that. Spencer understood that too. One of you took up the offer and the other didn't.'

Sam took in a shuddering breath. 'You don't know that. You don't know what happened to Spencer. We just arrived too late and he was dead. That's what happened and… and… and… Stop shaking – me! I can't – Talk!'

'I need you to listen to me. I have to have you understand what I am going to do and why I am going to do it.'

'Just kill me! Why don't you just break my neck and have done with it? Go on!'

'I will… but I need you to really understand why. A millennia ago when places were becoming places…'

'I don't want to listen to how you fucked some bloke.' Sam told Floyd. 'I don't want to hear about your conquests any more than Spencer does. We're both sick to your stomachs listening to your bragging. You love someone, kill them… move on. We both know that. Tell me something I don't already know.'

Floyd gave another small shake, but pulled Sam in close as he did it and wrapped his arms tightly around his poor little dog. 'A millennia ago when things were first becoming as they are now… things crossed from one side to the other. It was as though the world wobbled… fissures opened up in the ground releasing monstrous things, but those fissures also tore up into the sky and poisoned the air we breathe and the words we say. They turned people mad. They ripped their way through the world causing the seas to rise and then to boil. As the waters dropped back they froze. The mountains slid up out of the ground, the volcanoes heaved and sighed and spat. And those fissures in the ground… they mostly closed. They are still there is you search hard enough, they burst out of the ground, angry and hot and they cause men to turn against man and animal to fight animal… they destroy and maim in every way they can, but as I said, those places are so rare now that really you would have to search hard for them. What is more dangerous though are the places in the sky. The places where they slide on through and then the clouds arrive and cover their exit. They become trapped. Some end up as monsters which curl up in their own self pity at being foolish enough to come here. Some turn to man and they try to blend in… Iolanda is a fine example of that… Some though can't… they can't blend, they don't want to be seen as a mortal. They want to rip and harm… and poison the minds of others…

'Sanctuary is one of those places. It's been like it for a long time. I've tried many times to close that rent in the air, but I can't do it. All I can do is take orders occasionally to send thing back whence they came. I think because of the nature of the place that you are susceptible to the change in the pressures. You might be able to home in on the aura of the place because of your own personal nature. Maybe I should never have brought you here if I intended to keep you alive, but honestly, I didn't. I was going to use you as bait and draw the creature to me. I was going to let it have you and whilst it devoured and took what it wanted from you, I was going to send it back to where it came from.'

Sam was shivering and shaking in Floyd's arms. He was listening though. He was listening to the words Floyd was saying and he could feel his heart hammering in his chest in time to Floyd's heart. 'Where are these places?'

'All over the world. You don't need to know precisely where. There's one in Italy, one in the Middle East. There's one over the sea somewhere. There is but one small and very insignificant one in Nevada and there is one here. Sam I'm going to have to follow through with what I had originally thought. I am going to have to let you go. This time though not as a bait because you've foolishly already given yourself to the creature, but I can't have you stopping me.'

Sam let out a small sigh. 'I just wanted to be loved.' Sam sobbed onto Floyd's shirt. 'I'm sorry. I didn't really want Spencer to die. I know what he means to you and I hate having to share.' Another long sobbing breath. 'Will you be able to get me back again if I let you top me?'

Floyd shook his head. 'You're no longer mine. Dead is dead. I'll pass on the message to Spencer though. I'm sure that his horrific and terrifying death will be made all the more meaningful knowing that you held me back to give the thing a chance to kill him.'

'I didn't!' Sam wailed and now tried to push away from Floyd. 'That's not what happened! I didn't! It came to me and offered to help me if I got rid of something for it. I never told it about Spencer! I didn't even know Spencer was missing! Fucking hell Floyd. I'll accept that I was stupid and I'll accept that I could have handled it better but I'm not like you! I'm not some super monster who can regenerate and recover and be reborn… I'm not like you and I'm not like Spencer… pure… blotless Spencer… I'm just me! And I have to rely on you to keep me safe and I was dying! Yes my bowls were torn… I could feel them sliding out of my arse! I could feel that my insides had been mashed and you were no where and Spencer was no where and something offered to help me! What did you expect me to do! Why do you think that I'd wave it away and tell it that I'm fine laying there in my own insides in a ditch! And … AND it was raining and my hair had bits in it. And now I have a voice screaming at me in my head telling me what I have to do and it's making me feel sick and stupid and I just want it to all go away.'

'Methandusa.' Floyd called out. 'You see what I brought with me? A man so loyal he'd die before asking for your help and a dog who will give himself to anyone in exchange for nice hair. You erred when you stepped on my toes again you fucker! And I don't need the damned scrolls. They were destroyed years ago. I saw to that.'

Both of them heard a hissing sound like air escaping from a steam pipe. The floor vibrated and then stopped and Floyd let his face fall into a small smirk. 'We are safe here.' Floyd grabbed hold of Sam's arm and dragged him across the room towards the back wall. 'It will require something in exchange for you.' Floyd told Sam, winding fingers through his hair… desperately trying to think of another way out of this, but Sam had really brought this on himself and now Floyd didn't think that there was a whole lot he could do to stop the wheel from turning and crushing them all. The only thing he could do was to throw a spanner into the proverbial works and Sam was the only spanner he had to hand.

'I don't have anything! What's going to happen?'

Floyd again pulled Sam close and now hunkered down with him. 'You owe Methandusa your life.'

'But…'

'And it will collect.'

'You can stop it!'

Floyd pressed Sam hard against his chest. 'I can't, Sam. I can't stop it. What I can do is make your passing from here easier, but you need to request that. I can't do it unless you ask me to.'

'You're saying that I need to ask you to kill me? But then what will happen? What will become of me? Will I just be dead forever?'

'No… I promise you that much… you wont be dead forever.' Floyd felt his words catching in his throat… he hadn't lied, but he'd been very shy of the truth too. 'Give yourself over to me. Ask me to finish it… I wont let that creature come here and hurt you, but you have to ask.'

Floyd felt Sam's head nod against his chest. The silly boy… the foolish child. Floyd spied the bread knife out of the corner of his eye. Sam had used it to shred some of the pictures on the wall. Slowly he walked towards the knife and then hunkered down pulling Sam down onto his lap so that Sam had his back to Floyd. He didn't let go of him though. One arm embraced his quarry tightly and his spare hand picked up the knife.

'Will it make the pain in my head go away? Where will I go?'

'You will be somewhere I can come and get you. Don't worry about that. I'll reclaim you.'

'OK. OK…' Sam muttered thinking that he'd be sent back to the tent where Albion had been… thinking that he'd sit in the shade of the green light and get high whilst he awaited the arrival of Floyd who would kiss him all over and… The pain in his neck! He put a hand up to see what was going on… a squirt of blood splattered on his fingers… hot red blood. Sam opened his mouth to scream and take back his agreement. There was a very odd feeling of something pulling and tugging across his throat. He tried again to scream but just sprayed blood out of his mouth.

'Take it!' Floyd was shouting. 'Take your little whore you son of a bitch! Come and get it and drag it back home with you!' Floyd pushed the twitching Sam off his lap and brought the knife down again into between Sam's shoulder blades, he heaved it out again and walked from the room leaving Sam to twitch his final twitch and die alone… Floyd loved his dog, but… well… The Old Woman could return Spencer to him now and the monster of the shadows… old Methandusa could go home with his prize. It was a win win situation really… unless you happened to be Sam.

o-o-o

Spencer opened his eyes and saw bright blue sky. Initially he thought he was still in the woodlands… but now he could feel that his hands were at his side and he seemed to be clothed in rough spun garments and not his cords. He turned his head to the side where he felt someone was watching him and saw The Old Woman and Spencer's heart skipped a beat. He'd died. He could remember the creature putting its hand over Spencer's mouth and nose and stopping him from taking in air, but the actual point he passed… Spencer couldn't remember that.

'Congratulations.' The Old Woman sighed her words at Spencer. 'You should be very happy.' But her words didn't sound as though she meant them.

'I don't understand.' He pushed up onto his elbows and looked down at what he was wearing. Unbleached woollen robes with a length of rope around his waist.

The Old Woman shook her head almost to mock Spencer. 'Well you wouldn't. I must say that I'm surprised that he chose you. I didn't think he had it in him to follow through. A deal however, is a deal. Welcome home Spencer. I'm afraid that your days of mortality are over.'

Spencer still didn't understand. 'Something killed me.'

She nodded at him and seemed to sink to the ground in a soft folding fashion and sat with her legs crossed next to Spencer. 'I think of him as my son. Floyd is very precious to me. I've given him so many chances and he is just not doing very well. He needs to rest. He needs to be brought home for a while. Soon he will come here and he'll realise that the trap he set is the self same one that he walked into himself. He's effectively

repelled himself from your world and as you only live there because of him…' She rubbed her hands together. 'I'll never fully accept you, Spencer. You were the ruin of Floyd. You spoiled something wondrous.'

Spencer now sat up and stared at nearly in the eyes. 'I what? I never spoiled him! He did that himself.'

'He became weak. He became a lesser being. He became confused and he wasted his chances. He became hopelessly infatuated by you. I can't see why. I can't see why he'd throw everything away just to lay with you. What is so special? What do you have that Sam couldn't give him. Two people who profess to love him. Two people who bitch and argue and fight over Floyd… and tell me, how did you win? What evil spirit lies within your chest which dragged Floyd down to the place you have dragged him?'

This was ridiculous. Spencer had never done that! He might have been irritated with Sam sometimes, but… irritation is normal. Jealousy is normal… that's not his fault. That's Sam's fault… Floyd's… not his. 'I love him!' Spencer burst.

'Well that's lucky for Floyd I would think. It would be a shame if he handed over Sam to the dark ones only to find that you didn't want him. I assume that you do want someone who just sacrificed Sam for you… to keep you alive. A death on your shoulders is going to be heavy. I hope that you're man enough to take it, but please… please don't assume that this life of yours is your own. You belong to me now… And a life in purgatory is perhaps not the most appealing. The end of ends. Everyone dead. I hope that pleases you.'

Spencer stood up. He could smell the oils Floyd had wiped over him. He felt light headed, sick… as though he was breathing in a gas which would tear him apart. 'Floyd…'

'Floyd will have to sort his own mind out. He will need time away from you. He will have to purge his body and start realising what he's lost. He can't just keep letting his wards die and expecting me to pick up the pieces. It's reached an end.'

'You'll send me back?' Spencer felt the panic in his chest now… the pure terrifying panic.

She smiled at Spencer and waved a thin arm around her. 'Welcome home.' She turned and walked away leaving Spencer standing there… and he could feel the grass tickling under his feet and growing high, up to his ankles and over his shins… he watched wild flowers pop up and open and then bow over and wither and die… and Spencer just stood and waited… and he waited… he waited for Floyd to come and get him.

**a/n: I might end it there…. XOX**


End file.
